


Exchange Programme

by MiladyDragon



Series: Dragon-Verse: Post-Series Stories [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Doctor Who (2005), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dubious Science, Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Multi, POV Jemma Simmons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-11 01:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15962180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiladyDragon/pseuds/MiladyDragon
Summary: Jemma Simmons and her partner, Leo Fitz, were the first chosen for the SHIELD-Torchwood Exchange Programme, seconded to Torchwood House for six months.  Jemma had known it would be exciting, but she really had no idea what she and Fitz were getting themselves into...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the next story in the Dragon-Verse. 
> 
> This one takes place after "Tony Stark's Guide to Scenic Cardiff", and deals with the personnel exchange programme that Jack and Nick Fury had talked about in "A Conversation Between Two Directors". It's also a rather vague sequel to "Ghosts of the Collider", in that the story is mentioned as being the first time Jemma and Fitz found out about Torchwood. It's also another story that's a bit lighter in tone, although there are angsty bits in it.
> 
> There are also mentioned cameos in this, but I didn't add them to the character list, in that they don't really have any dialogue and only appear in passing.
> 
> ***I've just discovered that I posted this on Elizabeth Henstridge's birthday! Love how that worked out. :)

 

**_12 April 2010_ **

**_Aberdeen, Scotland_ **

****

The flight arrived right on time, which pleased Jemma Simmons greatly.

She was exhausted.  She and Fitz had been in the air for nearly nine hours, plus the added time in the airport before their flight.  Jemma was a little put out by the fact that they’d had to fly commercial, but then she honestly couldn’t expect a Quinjet to take them to their newest assignment, even though it would have been far more convenient than having to catch the flight from Dulles.  She wasn’t even counting driving time into the equation.

The time difference didn’t make it any easier to deal with, either.

Fitz looked just as frazzled as she felt.  Jemma could tell he was already regretting accepting the assignment, even though it had meant a bump in security level and outside lab experience.  The chance to study something new was exciting for Jemma, and it usually was for Fitz as well…but this time, not so much.  It certainly didn’t help that the assignment was in Scotland, the one place Fitz hadn’t really wanted to return to.  She knew her partner didn’t have many fond memories of his birth country, and that was too bad.  At least they weren’t being stationed in Glasgow.  Jemma sincerely doubted that she would have gotten Fitz out of Washington DC if they had been.

Still, after they’d been read into this new project somewhat, it had been far too good to pass up.  Jemma wasn’t fooling herself into thinking they’d been told everything; security was understandably tight, and there were certain things that she and her partner simply weren’t cleared to know. 

She was certain that, if they hadn’t already heard of Torchwood, they might not have even been given the name of the organisation they would be working for temporarily.

But Jemma knew enough to realise what a plum posting this was going to be.  Certainly, it was only for six months, with the possibility of it going longer depending on circumstances, but it was still exciting.  The opportunity to study alien biology and technology was something she’d never even thought about being able to do.

Director Fury himself had explained a little of what the temporary posting had entailed, accompanied by Agent Coulson himself, who didn’t seem very happy with the Director’s caginess about the actual assignment.  Jemma had never actually met either man before, and neither had Fitz, and she’d been impressed and terrified in equal measure.  Both men were legends within SHIELD, and it was only the knowledge that Agent Coulson was a close, personal friend of Agent Barton – and the rumours about the pair often claimed it was a lot more close and personal than was commented on in polite society – that had kept her from panicking at the idea that she and Fitz were about to be read into a secret only the highest echelons of SHIELD had been aware of.

In fact, Agent Barton had come to them the day before they’d been scheduled to leave, and had congratulated them both.  He’d then explained that he was well aware of what they would be doing, and wished he’d been able to go with them, but he’d had another mission to complete.  It had been just the sort of thing that had made Jemma much less nervous about the entire endeavour, knowing Agent Barton the way she did.  There had been that mess in Geneva, for one thing, and he’d been one of their security escort for that, and she thought she’d come to know him fairly well during that.  The SHIELD archer had also been known to hang around the labs and pester the scientists for special arrows and she’d seen him there several times.  Fitz had managed to get into several eyerolls at the requests Agent Barton tended to make.

Boomerang arrow?  _Really_?

Jemma had always thought that there was more than just life on Earth.  Statistically, it was impossible for their own planet to be the only one with any sort of lifeforms at all.  Still, to know there had been an agency out there with such direct knowledge was almost humbling.  SHIELD hadn’t been much involved in any sort of intergalactic threat as of yet, but if the briefing had been true then there had been at least the one agency that had, and that they’d been working behind the scenes for years. 

When she’d been growing up in Devonshire, there had been stories around London, about alien invasions and such, but Jemma hadn’t really believed it.  But now she was being told that it had all been true; and, in fact, there was so much more of it than she’d heard of.  It was hers and Fitz’s chance to study the phenomena and to gain more knowledge that would help SHIELD in the future. 

Still, they needed to get to their final destination first, and Jemma had no idea where that would be.  She only knew that someone was supposed to be waiting at the airport for them.

Collecting their luggage took only a few minutes; it was Customs that was going to be a bugger to get through.  Heightened security had the lines backed up fairly long, and Jemma despaired of getting off her feet and to their accommodations any time soon.  And food.  A meal would be lovely.

Fitz wasn’t being very talkative, but them Jemma could hardly blame him.  Being back in Scotland brought memories back that Fitz had done his best to put behind him.  She wondered if her friend still had family in the country, and if he ever talked to them.  Surely it wasn’t their fault that his father had abandoned them all, and had been a right prat about it.

Jemma barely stifled her tired and exasperated sigh.  The line wasn’t moving, and her stomach was telling her it was hungry.  Her watch claimed it was 5:10pm in Washington DC; it would be after 10pm now in Aberdeen.  She wondered if she’d be able to talk their contact into stopping for a bite.  The food on the plane had been bland and not very filling, and she’d wished she’d brought her own snacks along.  She thought longingly of the stash of chocolate she kept in her lab back at the Triskelion, knowing it would have been discovered and devoured by the time their assignment was done.

Hitching her laptop case higher onto her shoulder, Jemma leaned a little to the left in order to see down the queue.  She frowned as she saw a white-haired man wearing a kilt speaking to one of the security guards, and Jemma wished they’d been able to get some sort of SHIELD exemption in order to by-pass Customs totally, especially since this person seemed determined to hold things up.  As she watched, the man clapped the security guard on the shoulder, and then headed down the queue, his eyes searching for someone.

It wasn’t until he saw her and smiled that Jemma realised the man was there for her and Fitz.

The man’s reaction to Fitz was somewhat different from the pleasant smile he’d give her, however.

“Leopold!” the man exclaimed, his accent a bit thicker than Fitz’s.  “Tis good to see you again, lad!”

Fitz’s eyes were wide with surprise.  “Uncle Archie?” he gasped.

The man grabbed a hold of Fitz and pulled him into a fierce hug.  Fitz tensed for a split second, and then he was returning the hug, relaxing into the embrace.  “Welcome home,” he murmured just loud enough for Jemma to hear.  “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she heard Fitz admit. 

But then her friend was pulling away, frowning at the man who looked to be near tears at seeing Fitz once more.  “How did you know we were coming?”

“Why don’t you introduce me to ye’re friend and I’ll explain once we’re in the car.”

Fitz nodded, as if shaking his manners back into place.  “This is Jemma Simmons, my best friend.  Jemma, this is my great-uncle, Sir Archibald MacLeish.”

Jemma was blushing at Fitz’s words even as she was offering her hand.  She could see a vague resemblance between the older man and her partner, mostly in the eyes.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Archibald.”

Archibald MacLeish was a little shorter than Fitz, but wider in the shoulder, as if he worked out quite frequently.  Jemma had to admit the man had the legs for the kilt he was wearing; it was coupled with a crisp white shirt and a waist-length jacket made of black leather.  The sturdy boots he wore were well broken in and, while Jemma wasn’t at all someone who knew about fashion, looked to be hand-made. 

His blue eyes were flashing merrily as he accepted her handshake.  “Tis _my_ pleasure, Dr Simmons. And please, if you must be a wee bit formal then it’s Sir Archie, although it’s Archie to my friends.  Ye’re welcome to either.”

“Thank you…Sir Archie.”  It would take her a little getting used to being even just a little informal with Fitz’s great-uncle.  “Then you must call me Jemma.”

He gave her an even wider smile at that.  “Come on,” Sir Archie urged.  He reached out for Jemma’s suitcase, and as her mother hadn’t raised her to be impolite she let the older man take it from her.  “We can skip this nonsense.  I’ve cleared it with airport security.”  He winked.  “Makes me glad of my clearance sometimes.  I can pretty much do whatever I want.”

Sir Archie led them past the queue, through a security gate where a uniformed guard waved them past, and then out of the airport, to where an older model Land Rover that would have been dark green if not for all the mud-splatter on it was parked illegally at the kerb.  An airport security vehicle had stopped behind it, and the officers within waved at the trio as Sir Archie put their cases into the rear of the vehicle.  He gave the security guards a jaunty wave back, which they must have taken for being dismissed, because the vehicle took off back into departing traffic.

Jemma took the back seat, letting her friend take the front so he could sit next to his great-uncle.  The seat was faded leather, but well-taken care of, the floorboards littered with leaves and dirt, and she had to tuck her feet around a small metal box that took up a bit of the space.  The box was slightly scratched, and it had a lock on it, of a type that Jemma couldn’t identify.  She reached around and found the shoulder harness, buckling herself in firmly.

She wondered why Fitz had never mentioned Sir Archie, but then she only knew about Fitz’s dad because of some sort of father-son thing at SHIELD Academy in their first year, when he’d refused to attend; he’d explained things then, and Jemma had felt honoured that he’d shared that with her.  Fitz was notoriously tight-lipped about his personal life, and Jemma couldn’t blame him, not after what he’d told her.

Sir Archie maneuvered the Land Rover into traffic.  “I’m guessing the pair of you are right starving.  We’ll stop on the way out of town and pick up something.  Is that fine?”

“Perfectly, Sir Archie,” Jemma agreed.  Her stomach let her know it was impatient, but thankfully neither Fitz nor their escort seemed to notice.

“Now, as to why I’m picking you up,” Sir Archie went on, “it’s because I volunteered, once I found out SHIELD was sending you as part of their exchange programme with Torchwood.”

Fitz was shaking his head, and Jemma thought it might have been in denial.  “Are you telling us…”

“That I’ve been working for Torchwood all this time?” Sir Archie finished for him.  “Aye, lad.  I run their Glasgow office…although that’s about to change, and I can’t say I’m not glad for it.  And, until the current Director took over, no one much cared that I was up here all on my lonesome, just me and Nessie up at the loch.  But, now they’re re-opening the main Archive for business, as it were, and I’ll be in charge of it after everything is said and done, so I’ll be officially moving away from Glasgow and then to just outside Aberdeen, which will put me even closer to dear Nessie.” 

She had to wonder just who ‘Nessie’ was.  From Sir Archie’s tone, he was certainly sweet on whoever it was.  She wondered if Fitz knew, she’d have to ask later, when they were alone and a bit less tired…

While Jemma couldn’t see much of Fitz’s face, seated behind him as she was, she could still tell he was shocked at the news that his great-uncle had hidden this for so long.  But then, the security clearance on Torchwood had been so very high, it wasn’t a surprise to her that Fitz hadn’t known about just what his relative had been up to all these years. 

“We’ll be heading out to the Archive tonight,” Sir Archie went on.  “It’s not that much of a distance, and I suspect ye’ll be happier in a big, comfortable bed instead of sleeping in a motel room on the way.”

“At this point,” Jemma answered truthfully, “I could sleep just about anywhere.”

The Scotsman laughed.  “I understand.  Tis quite a flight from the States.  I was a bit surprised ye’re Director didn’t arrange something else.  I know SHIELD has those fancy Quinjet things…”

“From what I understand, there wasn’t anything available to bring us this far.”  Jemma was still a bit irritated by that, to be honest.  Although she wasn’t about to demand that resources that could be used elsewhere be rerouted just for their comfort.

“Well, it _did_ give me the chance to surprise ye.” 

Jemma saw him glance over at Fitz, who seemed to be looking out the window and not paying any attention to the conversation.  But she knew him; Jemma was aware that her friend was listening quite intently, he simply didn’t feel like contributing.  He had been shocked at the sudden appearance of his great-uncle, and would need a chance to regroup.

“Can you give us any more information that wasn’t included in our briefing packet?” Jemma requested. 

“Well, lass, I’m not sure what you _were_ told, and what’s going to be included in ye’re briefing in the morning, but I can give ye a little background on Torchwood if ye’re interested.”

“Very interested.  All we were told was that Torchwood was the premier alien incursion group in the UK, and that SHIELD wanted to have people learn what they knew.  Also, that we’d be studying alien biologies and technologies with an eye to improving SHIELD’s own knowledge on the various subjects.”  There hadn’t been a lot more, but really, that had been the upshot of the information she and Fitz had received from the Director and Agent Coulson.  “We also know that Great Britain has the highest recorded _and_ unrecorded incidents of alien invasion on the planet, which I find quite fascinating.  Oh, and that Torchwood was involved with the attempted incursion at the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva a couple of years ago, because Fitz and I were there.  Otherwise, we wouldn’t even know _that_ piece of information.”

“Well, they certainly didn’t tell ye much, then.  Not surprised, really.  I can certainly give ye a history of the Institute.  It’ll give us something to talk about on the drive up to Torchwood House.”

“That sounds wonderful, thank you.”

“To begin,” Sir Archie said, sounding very much like one of Jemma’s instructors at SHIELD Academy, “the Torchwood Institute was charted in 1879 at the behest of Queen Victoria, after she was targeted by a Lupine Wavelength Haemoveriform…which is really just a fancy name for an outer space werewolf…”

“There are outer space _werewolves_?” Jemma squeaked.  The biochemist in her was racing to come up with any sort of explanation for such a thing, and was failing horrifically.  She needed to get her hands on that file like she needed air to _breathe_ …

“Aye,” Sir Archie answered seriously.  “It was a MacLeish that helped with that little incident, and there’s been a MacLeish with Torchwood ever since.  In fact, Torchwood House had once belonged to the clan, until Her Majesty Victoria commissioned it for Torchwood’s first base after what occurred.  From what I understand, Lady Isobel was glad to see the back of it, after Sir Robert’s death at the hands of the creature.  As Sir Robert died without issue, it was a relief for Lady Isobel anyway, even if it hadn’t been for the circumstances involved.  My branch of the family is descended from Sir Robert’s younger brother.”

They pulled though a McDonalds – of all places! – for sandwiches.  Jemma ate silently, wolfing down her burger and chips as Sir Archie explained that the Institute had grown up to include bases in London, Cardiff, and even India for a time.  One of their branches had even mysteriously disappeared, no one knew where to.

“And Torchwood London is gone,” Sir Archie continued.  “It was destroyed by the Daleks and the Cybermen, back in ‘06.”

Jemma knew about the Daleks, of course; she and Fitz had been at the Academy for further education during that time the aliens had stolen the Earth – and it was still being debated about, because no one had yet come up with even a theory of how it had been done.  But she wasn’t at all familiar with the Cybermen, so she enquired about it.

It wasn’t escaping her notice that Fitz was letting her ask all the questions.  She’d add it to the list of things to talk to him about, later, because usually he was as curious about science as she was.

“The Cybermen are nasty buggers,” Sir Archie answered.  “They were once human, but they began replacing parts of their bodies with technology.  That in itself wouldn’t have been a bad thing, but it got completely out of control.  Before they knew it, they’d even got rid of their emotions and decided the best thing they could do for the rest of the universe was upgrade everyone in it, to bring them all up to the Cyber ‘ideal’.  They can be nigh-on unstoppable.”

Jemma shivered.  Yes, she was all for prosthetics and such, but what Sir Archie was describing… “Is there nothing out there in the universe that _isn’t_ trying to either conquer us or kill us?”

“Oh, aye,” he assured her.  “Ye’ll meet a couple up at the House tomorrow, after ye’re rested.  Torchwood not only deals with the aliens who want to take over, but the innocent ones that are trapped here on Earth.  We set them up in homes, get them jobs…make sure they’re assimilated into our society as best we can.  Cardiff has quite the population of resident aliens, as does London…”

Jemma was glad of that.  She had an optimistic soul, and wanted there to be friendly beings out in the universe as well.  She couldn’t wait to meet a real, honest to goodness alien lifeform.

It was about another half an hour before they reached their destination, Sir Archie keeping them entertained with stories of Torchwood House and its former owners.  Jemma was surprised to learn that the house itself dated back to the 16th century, and that there had always been a MacLeish living there until the death of Sir Robert, in the aforementioned dust-up with the space werewolves.  She wasn’t overly surprised that Fitz had never mentioned anything about his family owning such a house at one point, but then he really hardly ever talked about family.  Jemma was getting a crash course in MacLeish history, and she found herself enjoying it immensely, even though she got the distinct impression that it made her best friend uneasy.

But then, she could certainly understand his reluctance.  After all, she was learning more than he’d ever been comfortable saying.  It was giving her a few insights into her best friend, as their host drove through the night toward their destination.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting another chapter today because I'm going to be gone three weeks starting the end of October and I want to have this completely up by then, so I don't leave you all hanging with just a couple of chapters left. That would be just mean.

 

**_13 April 2010_ **

**_Torchwood House_ **

**_Aberdeenshire, Scotland_ **

 

 

“And here we are,” Sir Archie finally announced, turning the Land Rover into a long driveway.  He touched what looked to be some sort of garage door opener hooked on the visor, and a pair of huge, wrought iron gates swung open, allowing him to drive onto the grounds of Torchwood House.

It was enormous.  And obviously very old.

Built of ancient, irregular grey bricks, Torchwood House rose up before them, four stories at the least, more a manor really than some sort of country home.  There was an actual, round tower on one end, and on the other…

“Is that an observatory?” Jemma squeaked, pressing her nose against the glass of the car window, gazing up at the taller section of the house in awe.

“It is,” Sir Archie confirmed, pulling the Land Rover through an arch and into a central courtyard, and up onto a gravel shoulder, next to a dark green sports car and a black SUV.  “Built by Sir George MacLeish in the 1800’s.  He was a great friend of Prince Albert, as it were, and they were both very much into the sciences.”  He set the handbrake and turned the car off, opening the door and climbing out.  “Although it had a much more colourful history than that, which I’m certain ye’ll discover.”

Jemma wasn’t far behind him in getting out of the vehicle.  She shivered slightly in the early spring breeze, pulling her jacket around her tightly, waiting for Fitz to climb out of the front of the Land Rover.  He moved slowly, as if dreading something, but at the same time Jemma thought she could see a certain fondness in her friend’s eyes, as if he’d actually missed his great-uncle but was afraid to say anything about it.  He had to have still been feeling a bit of shock over finding out that the man he’d known his entire life had actually been working for a secret organisation all the time that Fitz had known him, and he hadn’t realised, as well.

Jemma did the only thing she could: she reached out and grabbed Fitz’s hand.  He jumped in surprise, but squeezed her fingers in gratitude.  He didn’t hold on for long; he moved past her, joining his great-uncle at the boot, helping to pull their bags out.

She collected her own laptop case, but allowed Sir Archie to carry her suitcases.  It gave her a chance to boggle up at the observatory one more time, wondering just how much work had gone into building it, and noticing just how impressive it was, the glass dome glittering in the moonlight while the tip of the large barrel of the telescope poked out from it.  She couldn’t wait to get a closer look at it.

She followed Sir Archie, Fitz walking beside her, up to the heavy wooden front door.  Taking a key card from his pocket, the older man slid it through a discreet reader next to the door, disguised as just another ancient piece of stone, and there was a clicking sound that Jemma figured was the lock of the door disengaging.  “We updated the security system when Torchwood House was recommissioned,” Sir Archie explained as he pushed the door open.  “We’ll get ye’re clearances sorted in the morning as well, so you won’t get stopped by any alarms or lockdowns or anything like that.”

 

He pushed the heavy door open, revealing a massive entryway beyond.  Bare wooden floors were covered with brightly coloured rugs, which did a lot to lighten up the dark panelled walls and make the place a lot more cheerful.  There was a staircase against one wall, bannister also of the same dark wood as the panelling, although the risers were also carpeted.  Doors opened off of the entry; through one, Jemma could make out what looked to be a study of some sort, with a large fireplace and comfortable-looking chairs and lighter wood furnishings. 

The rather fancy chandelier was on, making the entire room very inviting.  The place just oozed age, and Jemma could very well believe the place was as old as Sir Archie had claimed.

Through another door a man entered the room.  He was tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed, wearing a dark blue button down, the sleeves rolled up neatly to his elbows; well-pressed grey trousers, and highly-polished shoes that clicked on the hard wood flooring in the areas that weren’t covered by the rugs.  He was handsome, and he smiled as he approached.

Jemma recognised him instantly.

“You’re Mr Jones!” she exclaimed, grinning.  “I remember you from CERN.”

“Doctor Simmons,” he greeted her, his Welsh accent warm and friendly.  “Of course, I also remember you and Doctor Fitz.” 

He held out a hand to her, and she accepted.  Her medical training told her that his skin was a little too warm, but perhaps he’d just held something hot?  Because, certainly, he didn’t look as if he was ill.

“Let me make the official introductions,” Sir Archie offered as Fitz also shook Mr Jones’ hand, “this is Ianto Jones, Second in Command of the Torchwood Institute and Head Archivist.  He’s in charge of recommissioning Torchwood House as the official Archive of the Institute.”

Jemma had known that Mr Jones was in Torchwood, but she hadn’t realised that he was that important.  He did look a little young for that sort of thing; she would have guessed he was about five years older than Fitz and herself.  Still, there was no accounting for intelligence and drive, and their new boss certainly was intelligent, from what she’d been a witness to in Geneva.

“Second Jones,” the older Scotsman continued, “this is Dr Jemma Simmons and Dr Leopold Fitz, the first of our SHIELD exchange personnel.  But it seems you already know that.” He seemed amused.

“Indeed I do.  I’m also very aware that Dr Fitz is your great-nephew, Sir Archie.”

He shrugged.  “Well, I didn’t exactly hide it from you or Director Harkness.”

Second Jones gave the man a pleased nod.  “You certainly didn’t.”  He turned his attention back to Jemma and Fitz.  “I understand from Agent Barton that everyone tends to smash your names together?  Do you prefer FitzSimmons when being addressed at the same time?”

To be honest, Jemma had been pleasantly surprised when people began referring to her and Fitz in that manner.  It made her happy that she and her best friend would become so connected in peoples’ minds.  “That’s fine, sir.”

“Excellent.  I’d hate to accidentally insult you both, especially since we’re going to be working so closely together.  Although, I do ask that you stop calling me ‘sir’.  It makes me feel older than I really am.  Second Jones is fine, or else you can just call me Ianto.  Whichever you prefer.  We don’t stand on ceremony around here.” His eyes were laughing.

“And yet you still call me Sir Archie.”  The tone was teasing.

“That’s because it suits you,” Second Jones laughed.  “And you still call me Second Jones.”

“And that’s because it amuses me that someone who looks younger than me is my boss.”

The Welshman rolled his eyes, then turned his attention back to Jemma and Fitz.  “I wanted to welcome you both to Torchwood, and to make you aware that there will be a meeting over breakfast at 8am, where you’ll be told your duties and will meet the other members of the team currently in residence.  After that, we’ll give you a tour and make certain your security access is in place.  Tonight, though, let me show you to your rooms.  You can get some sleep and be fresh in the morning.”  He gave them both a small smile.  “Jetlag is a pain in the arse, I know.”

Jemma laughed.  “You’re right about that, s – Second Jones.”

Fitz nodded in agreement.  He looked as if he wanted to say something, and when he didn’t Jemma elbowed him gently in the ribs, giving him a glance that was meant to poke him into speaking up.

Second Jones looked at Fitz, his eyes suddenly older than his face and wiser than any twenty-something had a right to be.  “Do you have a question for me, Dr Fitz?” he asked gently.  It occurred to Jemma that he’d noticed something wrong in her friend, and was giving him a chance to speak up about it.

“I have to ask,” Fitz answered softly, “but was I chosen for this assignment because of my relationship with Uncle Archie?”

Oh, Jemma hadn’t even considered that question.  It was a valid point to make, and she would have been vastly disappointed if that turned out to be true. It also explained Fitz’s silence on the way here; he’d most likely been dwelling on it ever since he’d learned his great-uncle worked for the same organisation they’d been seconded to.

Second Jones’ lips curled upward in an almost proud smile.  “I can assure you, that you got this posting because of your merits, Dr Fitz.  Director Fury passed along yours and Dr Simmons’ files to me, along with several others he had in mind for our exchange programme, and Director Harkness and I were immediately impressed by both of you.  Now, I will admit, it did help that you’d had some slight exposure to Torchwood in the past and, when asked, both Agents Barton and Coulson recommended you highly, but you are here because you are both intelligent young people who are willing to have your horizons broadened, as it were.”

“It wasn’t until after Jones and Harkness had made their choice that I even knew it was you,” Sir Archie piped up.  “I then made them both aware of how we were related.”

“I can understand your reasoning,” Second Jones added.  “It _does_ look as if some form of nepotism came into play, but that is the farthest from the truth.”

Fitz’s shoulders drooped as he released every bit of tension he’d been carrying around with him.  Jemma bumped his shoulder with hers, grinning at him, glad that her best friend had been reassured.  As had she.

“Thank you for asking that,” Second Jones really _did_ look proud then, “because the very last thing we want is for you to doubt yourself and your purpose here.  You’ll both work hard, but I can promise it will be fulfilling.  Now,” he clapped his hands lightly, “let me show you to your rooms.  Get some rest, and we’ll talk again in the morning.  I’m really looking forward to getting to know you both much better.”

With those words, their new boss headed toward the stairs.  Jemma, Fitz, and Sir Archie followed with the bags, Jemma curious about the rest of the house and just what they would be doing, but really too tired for any of her questions to come to mind.  A bed sounded heavenly, and she felt as if she could sleep for a week.

They left the stairs at the first floor.  “All quarters are on this floor,” Second Jones explained.  “The bath is right here,” he gestured toward a half-open door, “and if you’re wanting showers the clean towels are in the butler’s pantry just that way,” he pointed back the way they came, and Jemma noticed a narrow door at the end of the corridor. 

The group passed two rooms, their doors closed.  Then Second Jones stopped in front of a pair of open rooms, one across the hall from the other.  “Doctor Simmons, we’ve put you in this room.”  He pointed to the one on the right; Sir Archie ducked inside with Jemma’s cases.  “Doctor Fitz, you’re right across the hall.  The beds were changed this morning, and if there’s anything you need don’t hesitate to ask either me, or Sir Archie.  In fact, your best bet would be to ask him, as I’m an extremely heavy sleeper and it’s hard to get me to react to anything when I’m out.”  He gave them both an abashed look.  “There are phones in your rooms, and I’ll make certain you get a wake-up call.  Is there any particular time you’d like to be awakened in the morning?”

“Seven is fine,” Jemma answered; Fitz echoed her.

“Alright.  I’ll arrange it.  You’ll also be assigned comms in the morning.  This place is huge, and the comms system will allow us to keep in touch when we’re scattered about the House.  Until then… goodnight, and I hope you both sleep well.”  He touched them both gently on the shoulder, and then walked back toward the stairs, leaving them and Sir Archie – who had just come from Jemma’s room, now empty-handed – alone. 

“I’m in the room at the end of the hall,” the Scotsman said.  “As Ianto said, don’t be afraid to let me know if ye need anything.  Unlike him, I’m a fairly light sleeper so you don’t have to worry about me sleeping through any sort of request.”

“Thank you, Sir Archie,” Jemma said warmly.

“Ye’re welcome, Jemma.”  He glanced toward Fitz.  “Leopold, I’m glad you asked Ianto that question.  It never even occurred to me that you might feel that way.  Of course, to be fair I would’ve recommended you for this posting if I’d known ye’re file was being shared, but it would’ve been because I know just how intelligent you are.  I’m proud of you, lad.”  He reached out, tugging Fitz into a hug; one that he accepted, this time with a lot more grace than the embrace at the airport.  There was no sudden, surprised, tensing this time, and Jemma couldn’t help the smile when she saw it.

“Thanks, Uncle Archie,” Fitz murmured.

“Ye’re quite welcome.”  The older man gave a suspicious sounding sniffle, then pulled away.  “Now, to bed with the pair of ye.  I’ll come get ye both in the morning for breakfast.” 

“Good night, Sir Archie.”

“Night, Uncle Archie.”

And they were alone. 

Jemma sighed.  “This has been a day of surprises.”

“You’re not kidding.”  Fitz gave her a rueful smile.  “You can have the shower first in the morning.  You always take longer anyway.”

Jemma huffed in mock offence.  “I do not!”

“Yeah, you do.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, because he was right.  She _did_ take longer in the shower.  “When I’m done, I’ll come and knock on your door.”

“Sounds good.  Night, Jemma.”

“Good night, Fitz.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

**_14 April 2010_ **

**_Torchwood House_ **

**_Aberdeenshire, Scotland_ **

****

“Good morning, lass,” Sir Archie greeted Jemma as soon as she opened the door to his knock.  “Sleep well?”

She gave him a brilliant smile.  “Yes, I did.  Thank you.  That bed was wonderful.”

It was also huge, with four posters, an actual canopy, and she swore the mattress had been stuffed with genuine down.  Jemma had felt as if she’d slept on a cloud.

“Glad to hear it.  Now, let’s fetch Leopold and get down to breakfast before it’s all gone.”

With those words, he stepped across the hall and knocked on Fitz’s door.  Jemma pulled her own door closed and waited with Sir Archie for Fitz to answer, which didn’t take long at all.  Her friend looked as well rested as she felt, which was a good thing.  She’d been a little worried about him last night, but she’d seen how good he seemed to be feeling when she’d let him know she was out of the shower earlier.

“Good morning, Leopold,” Sir Archie said.  “I hope you slept well?”

“I did, Uncle Archie.”

“Excellent.  Now, let’s head down to the dining room.  We have some hearty appetites in the house, and there’s no telling what sort of inroads they’ve made in the breakfast.  They certainly keep the cook busy.” He laughed as he headed down the hallway.

Jemma and Fitz followed, walking down the stairs and deeper into the house.  Sir Archie took them into a room off the entry and past the stairwell, one with a long table that looked at least as old as the manor itself, and a buffet set up against one wall.  Colourful fabrics and ancient-looking tapestries lined the dark wood walls, breaking up the near-black panelling. A fireplace took up the end of the room, although it wasn’t lit.  There were knickknacks on the mantel, all antiques to Jemma’s not-so-professional eye.

There were four people at the table, devouring breakfast.

One was Second Jones, who was seated at the head of the table.  Another was the woman, in place to his right, who had been with him in Geneva…was her name Dr Sato?  Jemma couldn’t quite recall.  There was a second woman next to Second Jones, on his left, this one Chinese.  The last was a man with dark skin, seated next to the Chinese woman, who gave them a grin as they entered.

“Good morning,” Second Jones welcomed them, standing politely.  “Please, grab plates and once you’re seated I’ll perform the introductions.”

Jemma did not need to be told twice.  There were china plates and genuine silverware at the end of the buffet, and her stomach began grumbling immediately at the smells rising from the covered dishes that had been set up in a line across it.  She helped herself to eggs, potatoes, and toast; she thought about the kippers, and then decided that it was a good idea and helped herself to those, as well.  It had been a long time since she’d had a decent kipper.  One just couldn’t get them in the States.

She set her plate and utensils down at the empty chair next to woman she’d recognised, and then returned for the coffee urn at the end of the buffet.  The dark, rich scent had her breathing it in deeply as she dispensed it into a waiting cup. 

“Ianto made the coffee,” the strange man said, his accent definitely London, “and it has addictive qualities.”

That caused a round of laughter around the table as Jemma took her seat.  Fitz sat next to her, his own plate heaped even higher than hers, although he was minus the kippers and plus the ham that Jemma had passed over.  Sir Archie set his own plate and coffee down at the empty place beside the younger woman, and across from Fitz.

Without her having to ask, condiments got passed down the table toward her and her friend, and Jemma accepted the blackberry jam, which she slathered all over her toast.  She also added a dash of cream to her coffee, then took her first sip.

Her eyes widened at just how _good_ it was.  She could practically _feel_ the dopamine levels in her brain rising.

“Ianto is our Coffee God,” the woman Jemma thought was Dr Sato laughed.  “He has us all worshipping him.”

Second Jones rolled his eyes good-naturedly.  “I hate being worshipped.  Although I do accept certain types of offerings.”

“Like completed paperwork,” the other man joked.  “We all know that’s how you get Captain Cheesecake to get his work done…bribe him with coffee.”

“And sex,” Dr Sato grinned slyly.  “Don’t forget the sex.”

“As if we could!”

That brought about another round of laughter, and Jemma could see what Second Jones had said last night about no one standing on ceremony.  They were teasing their boss, and he was accepting it with good grace.  It was as if Torchwood had no boundaries when it came to each other, and it made her think of _family_.

Although she was just a bit embarrassed by the intimation that Second Jones had an apparently healthy sex life with this other person…whoever this co-called ‘Captain Cheesecake’ was, and that he wasn’t afraid of using it in order to get his lover to accomplish things.

“Allow me to introduce these troublemakers to you,” Second Jones chuckled.  “You already know our Technical Specialist, Dr Toshiko Sato-Swanson.”

“Yes,” Jemma said, “while we didn’t officially meet at CERN, we were present when you faced off with Professor Johnson, in order to get her to shut down the Collider.  It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Dr Sato-Swanson.”  She was glad that she’d remembered the woman’s name, but she was certain she hadn’t had a hyphenated surname then.  A new marriage, perhaps?  That would explain the diamond ring on her finger.

“Please, it’s Toshiko, or Tosh,” the woman said.  “Doctor Sato-Swanson is such a mouthful.”

Jemma nodded, although she wasn’t sure she was quite that comfortable with that sort of thing yet.

“And this is Mickey Smith,” he indicated the black man, “he’s here helping Toshiko to update security for Torchwood House.”

“Mickey.  None of that ‘Mister Smith’ bollocks please.” Mickey waved a fork in their direction.  Jemma thought that it might be easier to call him by his given name, since he wasn’t ostensibly her boss apparently.

“And last, but certainly not least, this is Anna Chang.  She’s training to be one of our Archivists on site here.”

The Chinese woman seemed a little shy, but she smiled and nodded in greeting.  “Anna,” she requested, with a pleasant accent.

“Everyone, this is Dr Jemma Simmons and Dr Leopold Fitz,” Ianto finished, “they are the first of our SHIELD exchange programme volunteers.  They’re also known collectively as FitzSimmons.”

Mickey looked intrigued.  “Are the two of you…” he made a gesture that Jemma had no problem interpreting.

“Oh, heavens no,” she denied, chuckling.  “Fitz is my very best friend in the world.”

“And Jemma is mine,” Fitz spoke up around a mouthful of egg.

Ianto gave them both a knowing look, but didn’t say anything.  “Doctor Simmons is Biochemistry, and Doctor Fitz is Engineering.”

“Cheers,” Mickey exclaimed, grinning at Fitz.  “Looks like we’re gonna be working together then…wait, do you prefer Fitz?  Cause I’m not sure I can call you Leopold with a straight face, I’ll be honest.”

Anna slapped Mickey’s arm, and he grumbled at the abuse, rubbing the spot.  “Be nice,” the smaller woman admonished.

“No, it’s okay,” Fitz said, waving off Anna’s attempts at being supportive of his feelings.  “Don’t much care for my given name, so Fitz is fine.”

“Doctor Simmons,” Second Jones ignored the antics of his team, “I’ll introduce you to Oscar, you’ll be working mostly with him in the biological sciences.  He…decided not to join us, because his appearance can be somewhat…off-putting, and he wanted me to warn you first.”

“He’s an alien,” Doctor Sato-Swanson interjected.  “He might look fierce, but he’s really quite nice.”

How exciting was it that Jemma would get to work with an actual alien?  She wondered just what Dr Sato-Swanson had meant by fierce…her imagination was throwing up all sorts of images, and she was certain none of them would live up to the reality.

“We also have a lab set up for you and Dr Fitz to share,” Anna added. “I hope it suits.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Fitz assured her. 

Jemma was glad they would be sharing a lab, like they did back at the Triskelion.  She didn’t want to think of them working separately, not when they were so used to sharing things.  They did their best work when they were together.  It was good that this group seemed to have realised that.  “I’m certain it will.”

“We’ll need to introduce you to Kren, too,” Second Jones said.  “Kren is also a resident alien, but she’s not a scientist…she’s here because she’s also unable to pass as human.  She fell through space and time as well, and is stranded here.”

“She loves the garden, and has taken on the position of our unofficial gardener,” Sir Archie replied, taking a sip of his own coffee.  “I’d love to introduce her to Nessie.  I get the feeling they’d be great friends.”

“When do you plan on going up to the loch?” Second Jones enquired.

“In a couple of weeks.  It’s past time I check on her.”  The older man looked inordinately fond.

“Perhaps you’d like to take FitzSimmons with you?”

That suggestion had Sir Archie beaming.  “Aye.  T’would like company, and Nessie loves new people.”

Jemma was intensely curious about just who this ‘Nessie’ was, and she could tell that Fitz was, as well, but he was just doing a better job at hiding it.  Fitz didn’t have much of a poker face, and she’d long ago learned to read him fairly easily, but he was actually doing a pretty good job of focussing on his breakfast and not reacting to the idea of visiting his great-uncle’s friend.

“First, though,” Second Jones continued, “we’ll get you set up in the computer system, as well as your security clearances.  Toshiko can handle that.”

“It won’t take long,” Toshiko assured them.  “It’s just getting a copy of your biometrics, and that’s a simple matter.”

“What sort of system do you use?” Fitz asked, sounding interested for perhaps the first time.  “Is it a biometric scanner, or do you use a CGI-based system?”

Toshiko gave him a large smile.  “A little of both, actually.  I’ll really need to introduce you to mainframe.  I get the feeling she’s going to love you.”

“Our mainframe,” Second Jones put in, obviously noticing Jemma’s confusion at the technician’s statement, “is an alien crystallographic system.  She’s as close to an artificial intelligence as we have, and Toshiko is her favourite.”  The last part of that statement was teasing, and Toshiko rolled her eyes at him.

“I can’t help it if she likes me best.”

“It just makes it harder on the rest of us when she decides she doesn’t want to cooperate,” Mickey snorted.  “Then we have to go through you or Ianto to get anything done.”

“She likes you just fine,” Toshiko replied.  “You just insulted her that one time, and she has a very long memory.”

They were talking as if the mainframe really was alive.  Jemma felt as if she’d fallen down the rabbit hole, and it was _wonderful_.

Fitz’s eyes were alight with wonder.  Jemma always thought that was a good look on him, and it warmed her heart to see it.  “I can’t wait to meet her.”

And, to think, he’d been reluctant to accept the assignment.  Jemma would have to tease him about it, later.

“As to your duties,” Second Jones got them back on task, “Torchwood House used to be the Archive for the entire Institute, until London decided it was going to be the biggest and the best and practically gave up the place.  They had many of the artefacts transferred to Torchwood Tower, and what was left here was mostly junk.”

“As matter of fact,” Sir Archie interrupted, sounding outraged, “That bloody Hartman woman had the gall to let the House out for _weddings_!”  He made the word sound as if it was what he would have scraped off his boot after coming in from a cow pasture.

“However,” Second Jones continued as if Sir Archie hadn’t said anything, “Her Majesty has determined that Torchwood House be recommissioned.  We’ve managed to re-collect many of the artefacts that London had taken, as well as things that were stored in Cardiff, and had them transferred back here.  Also, Her Majesty as decreed that UNIT be disbanded within the United Kingdom, due to actions that are currently above your clearance level, and so they’ve been ordered to give up several of their own Archives and to move their collections of alien artefacts here.  It’s going to be our job to go through what we have here now, catalogue it, and to prepare the Main Archive for its old purpose: as a repository for the majority of what comes to Earth through various means.”

“UNIT?” Fitz clarified, “that’s the Unified Intelligence Taskforce, correct?”

“Yes, it is,” Toshiko confirmed.  Her eyes were suddenly angry, and Jemma had to wonder just what she had against UNIT.  “They used to be a good organisation.  Not so much anymore.”

Jemma had heard of UNIT, but she hadn’t known they were also in the alien artefact business, and said so.

“They’re latecomers to the scene,” Mickey added.  “Anna used to work for them.”

“And I didn’t agree with the way they did things,” Anna said.  “Quitting was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Second Jones gave her a soft smile.  “And we’re glad to have you here, Anna.”

She blushed slightly at the sentiment.  “I couldn’t let the Nightingale down.”

Jemma had to wonder who that was, guessing it was some sort of codename.  She really wanted to ask; it was obvious that Second Jones could tell, but she kept her curiosity in check.  She was very much aware of security, and didn’t want to risk asking about something she wasn’t clear to know.

Second Jones didn’t answer her unspoken question.  Instead, he said, “Eventually, UNIT will also move their Black Archive here, but that won’t be for several years yet.  Apparently, something has to happen first before we can finally close it down.”

“We have future knowledge from a past source,” Toshiko added cryptically.

“Timey wimey will get you every damned time,” Mickey growled.  He didn’t sound at all happy about it.

“Wait,” Jemma exclaimed, “are we talking some form of time travel?” It sounded outrageous, and quite impossible. 

“It does exist,” Second Jones said patiently.  “There are races out there with access to time travel, some of them not so nice.  The Daleks, for one.  There is also a time/space Rift located in Cardiff, which dumps things and people on the city all the time.  It’s the main reason there’s a branch of Torchwood there, to monitor the Rift and to protect the people of Cardiff against anything deadly that might come through.  Both Oscar and Kren came through the Rift, and we were able to help them, as well as others who come in peace and only want to be safe.”

Toshiko blinked, glancing toward Fitz.  “Are you…drooling, Doctor Fitz?”

“What?” Fitz muttered.  He tried very surreptitiously to wipe his mouth, but Jemma couldn’t help but notice.  She pointedly handed her friend a napkin, which he accepted even as the tips of his ears turned pink.  “Sorry, it’s just that…temporal/spatial anomalies have only been postulated.  It’s incredible that one actually exists…”

“I’ll be more than happy to share some of the readings we’ve gotten over the years,” Toshiko offered, “but they aren’t for general dissemination.  The world just isn’t ready to know about such things.”

Jemma wanted to disagree with that, but to be honest she’d seen the reactions to the Earth being stolen and how a majority of the human race had managed to rationalise it away.  There was just so much disbelief in the world right now, it would be impossible to get people to understand such things.

“In the next couple of days,” Second Jones continued, “we’ll be expecting some people we’ve recruited from UNIT joining us.  Professor Malcolm Taylor comes highly recommended, even if he is a little… eccentric, from what his file says.  He actually requested the reassignment, wanting to follow the artefacts that UNIT is turning over to us here.  Despite everything that UNIT has done, we can’t blame them all, and from what we’ve been told Professor Taylor is quite non-political.  He’s a scientist of the highest calibre, and we’re hoping for great things from him, especially in four-dimensional engineering.”

Fitz looked as if he was either having some sort of seizure, or about to become completely undignified.  Jemma, while not an engineer herself, could understand his excitement.  Four-dimensional engineering? Alien crystalline computers? That couldn’t be real, could it?

When Second Jones had used the term, ‘horizons broadened’, he hadn’t been joking!  Although, it really was more like having their minds boggled!

It was obvious that Second Jones knew he was info dumping all over them, and that they were soaking it all up, and he gave both herself and Fitz encouraging smiles, then went on, “We’ll also have more SHIELD scientists coming as well, on a temporary basis.  You both are the first.  In exchange, you’ll be passing along to Director Fury information on alien races and technology that will better help SHIELD deal with any other alien invasions that happen to occur outside the UK.  But, our agreement helps us as well as SHIELD, since we need the help in getting Torchwood House up and running.  Her Majesty wants Torchwood to be able to handle everything involving aliens that happens within Great Britain within ten years, and to do that we need whatever assistance we can get.  We need time to hire, but at the same time there are so many things we need to do before we can even get to that point.  One of those things is to get Torchwood House recommissioned to accept artefacts.”

“We hope you like hard work,” Toshiko added, “because it’s going to take a lot to get things ready.”

Jemma sat up a little straighter in her chair.  “You can count on us.”

“We’ll do our best,” Fitz said, at the same time.

Second Jones gave an approving nod.  “That’s all we can ask.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

**_14 April 2010_ **

**_Torchwood House_ **

**_Aberdeenshire, Scotland_ **

****

The labs were all situated belowground, in caverns that had been dug from the solid bedrock under Torchwood House.

Despite being subterranean, they were bright, large, and very much up-to-date, even with some equipment that Jemma didn’t recognise.  It gave her a thrill, guessing that they must be either alien or future-tech, and she couldn’t wait to figure out just what they were capable of.

There were several of the labs.  One seemed to be dedicated to some sort of restoration work, judging from the set-up just beyond the glassed-in walls.  There was also one with a door that could be hermetically sealed, that one of smallish size and immaculately white. 

Jemma, though, stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of the…being…within another of the labs.

“Is that…” the words came out in a squeak.

“Is it…” Fitz echoed her, high-pitched in the sheer wonder of what they were seeing.

“That’s Oscar,” Second Jones answered, sounding amused. He’d volunteered to show them the facilities while Toshiko and Mickey finished with adding them to the security clearance program. “As we said, he’s one of our resident aliens.”  He stepped toward the door.  “Come along, and I’ll introduce you.”

Jemma let herself be ushered into the lab, Fitz following.  She couldn’t do anything else in that moment but follow directions.

“Good day, Oscar,” Second Jones greeted the creature in the lab.

The alien called Oscar turned.  “Ianto, hello!” His large, orange-red eyes took in Jemma and Fitz.  “Are these Drs Fitz and Simmons?”

“Indeed they are.”

Oscar took a step forward, and there was an audible click that had Jemma glancing down to see the large, dactyl claw on the middle toe of his three-toed feet.  Jemma’s eyes darted back up, and she was charmed by the enormous grin on Oscar’s…snout, really.  It revealed some really large, fearsome teeth, and yet she didn’t feel at all threatened.  He seemed far too happy to see them to actually _eat_ them.

“Are you…a dromaeosaurid?” Jemma blurted out, completely unable to help herself.

The being called Oscar laughed, and it was then that Jemma realised that it was not only coming from his mouth, but from a small, metallic box that was strapped to his chest, shining against glittering green, gold, and blue scales.  He stood about five feet tall, bipedal, with three dextrous-appearing long fingers on the end of arms that were lined on the underside with brightly coloured feathers.  An equally bright feathered ruff surrounded the large, crested head.

“That isn’t the name of my race,” Oscar answered, “but I believe I do resemble an Earth dromaeosaur, along the lines of a velociraptor.  My name and designation are unpronounceable in your tongue, and this,” he motioned toward the box, “as well as it works, is also unable to translate.  And so, I am called Oscar, which I do happen to like.”

“But you sound like…” Fitz’s voice came to a halt, as if he was a bit afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Oscar laughed again.  He seemed to be a very _happy_ alien dromaeosaur.  “The famous Earth actor James Earl Jones?”

“Yeah,” her friend answered uncertainly. 

“I have seen all of your _Star Wars_ movies,” the alien assured him, “and it did not escape my notice.”

“Original trilogy or prequels?”

Oscar gave Fitz such a look… “Original trilogy, of course.  The prequels are simply a pale imitation.”

Fitz grinned, and Jemma knew the pair had just bonded over their mutual loathing of the _Star Wars_ prequels.

“It wasn’t done on purpose,” Second Jones chuckled.  “But Toshiko did offer to change the programming in the translator to something else.”

“And I declined the honour,” Oscar added. “I quite like the way the translation sounds.  And, at the least, I do not make odd breathing noises at inopportune moments.”

Jemma couldn’t help but laugh. “You are absolutely amazing,” she couldn’t help but gush.  A part of her wanted to run all sorts of tests to see what made Oscar tick, and another wanted to find out just how soft his feathers were.  Either one of them would have been rude, so she kept her hands to herself.

The fine scales on Oscar’s face darkened a little in what had to have been a blush.  “Thank you very much, Dr Simmons.”

“Please…you can call me Jemma.”

“That pleases me greatly.  Thank you for the honour.”

“And I’m Fitz,” her friend jumped in.  He offered his hand, which Oscar delicately took in his clawed one.

“An honour to meet you, Fitz,” Oscar said warmly.  “I have the instinctive impression that I shall enjoy working with you both very much.”  He glanced at Second Jones.  “Have you shown them the Archives yet?”

“Not yet,” the Welshman answered.  “That was our next stop.  Their clearances should be in the system by now.  Besides, I wanted to let them know where their lab was going to be…however, they were somewhat distracted by you.”

Oscar’s feathered ruff shook slightly, the feathers raising up as if in some sort of display.  Jemma interpreted it as him being pleased.  “I _am_ rather distracting, am I not?”

Jones laughed.  “That you are, my friend.  Now, we’ll leave you to your work, and I’ll finish the tour.”

“I shall see you all at dinner, then.”  The alien dromaeosaur touched one claw-tip – and he obviously kept them well-clipped – to his forehead.  Then, turning, he moved back toward the table he’d been working at when they’d entered the lab, the tip of his tail waggling in what Jemma could only describe as a happy gesture.

They were barely out the door when Jemma grabbed Fitz by the hand.  “Our first alien!”

“He is _amazing_ ,” Fitz gushed.  “Does he need specialised tools to work, or can he manipulate human-sized equipment?”

“Did you see the dactyl claw?  And the teeth? Obviously he’s from a predatorial species, but what does he actually eat?  Does Earth food agree with him?”

“And that translator, that’s a lovely piece of work.  I wonder how it functions…”

“I’m sure Toshiko will be happy to explain it to you, Fitz, just as I’m sure Oscar won’t mind if you ask him questions about his biology, Jemma,” Second Jones butted in. His eyes were twinkling merrily.  “Come along, and I’ll finish the tour.”

 

***********

 

Second Jones hustled them back into the lift.  Jemma was a bit disappointed; he’d shown them the lab they would be sharing, which had impressed her greatly, but he hadn’t let them stay for long before ushering them out.  She could tell Fitz was also as disappointed as she was, but they could always come back.  After all, they had six whole months of working there, and would be spending a great deal of time within it.

“The Archives are even deeper,” he explained, “and not just anyone can get in.”  He indicated the lift control; according to it, there were three more levels underneath this one.  Jemma didn’t know anything about geology, but she wondered just how they’d excavated the place without it getting about that Torchwood House sat on several sub-levels, disguised by the rambling old manor home overhead.

“The original Archives were actually dug out during World War Two,” he continued, “because the Crown was concerned about the Nazis and their bombing raids.  The last thing anyone needed was something volatile going up because a bomb managed to hit the House.  So, King George VI authorised the original excavations.  The Archives have grown since, except for the period of time that Torchwood London practically shut the place down.

“To get into the Archives, your biometrics have to be uploaded to mainframe, which we did before I began your tour. If one of you wouldn’t mind touching the button for the lowermost level?  Let’s see if Toshiko and Mickey got them programmed in yet.”

Jemma was game, but as she hovered her finger over the button Second Jones had told her, she stopped.  “What happens if they didn’t?” she asked suspiciously.

“Then a really loud alarm goes off, the lift locks down, and we’ll be stuck inside until someone comes to fetch us out.”  He didn’t seem overly bothered by that prospect, which eased Jemma’s nerves just a little.

“What’s in the other levels?” Fitz enquired.

“The level below this one is storage.  Level four is the Secure Archives, and I’m afraid you won’t have access to that level for security reasons.  Now, go ahead and try the button.”

Jemma took a deep breath and did as Ianto bid.

The button lit up, and the lift began to descend.

She let out the breath she’d just taken in, in a single long whoosh, giving their temporary boss a wide grin. 

Second Jones returned it with a smaller one of his own, yet no less pleased.  “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” His tone was teasing. 

“You knew everything was alright,” Jemma accused.

The man shrugged.  “Toshiko is the very best, and Mickey is no slouch, either.  I had every confidence that they had your _bona_ _fides_ in the system correctly.”

The lift seemed to go down forever, but Jemma thought that just might have been her excitement.  It did stop on the third level, the light on the panel glowing green just as the doors slid open. 

For the second time – so far! – that day, Jemma was struck speechless.

The cavern system they found themselves in stretched down so far that Jemma couldn’t see the end from where they were standing.  Shelves lined the walls, each one marked with a set of numbers, and it reminded her a little of the Library of Congress catalogue system, one that she’d become familiar with during her studies at Sci Tech. 

The shelves held boxes and larger pieces of things that could have been tech, or just as easily junk…Jemma couldn’t tell which.  She _could_ tell that there wasn’t a lot of it yet, but there was plenty of room for more.  From what Second Jones had said, there would be a lot more coming.

Her palms were practically itching to get started.

“As you can see,” their boss said, “it’s fairly empty at the moment.  However, I want to update the catalogue system to match the one we use in Cardiff, and to confirm what these artefacts actually are, if possible.  Some of the previous archivists quite honestly didn’t know what they were doing, and would mis-label things as harmless when they actually weren’t, and vice versa.  That’s what your primary jobs are going to be: trying to work out what everything does.  I don’t expect you and the others coming later to work out all the artefacts here, but I believe we can make a good start.”

He led them between the shelving units, and Jemma let herself boggle a little at what she was seeing.  “As you can see,” Second Jones continued, “there are other rooms besides this one.”  He gestured toward an opening in the wall, in a break between the shelves.  “We also have cold storage for those items that need it, as well as an area for books and other forms of written communication.  I think my favourite is a love letter a husband wrote to their spouse.  When we were finally able to translate that… well, let’s just say my inner romantic came out to play.”

Jemma’s heart melted a little at that.  “I can’t imagine such a thing.”

“It came through the Rift in Cardiff.”  He gave her a kind smile.  “Not everything out there is bad.  There are people out there in the universe who are living their lives, and it’s those simple items that come to us that proves it.”

There was another room off to the side, with a heavy metal door blocking it off from the rest of the Archives.  “And this…this is the morgue.  Unfortunately, there are times when beings who come through the Rift don’t survive the experience.  We attempt to give them as much dignity as we can, but this is where they will come to rest.”

“That’s sad,” Jemma sympathised.  She felt sorry for those poor souls who got snapped up from their homes, only to die on an alien world so far from their loved ones.

“What about the aliens who come here looking for trouble?” Fitz wanted to know.

“Then they find trouble,” Second Jones answered.  “Killing is our last resort, but sometimes we have to do that in order to save lives.  Those creatures will end up in the morgue as well.  We do study them as much as we can, in order to be prepared if there should be another incursion, so we can know the best way to stop them if they should return.  Not everything is bad, but not everything is good, either, and there are races out there that consider Earth a target because we’re not as advanced as they are.  That’s what Torchwood does…it tries to prepare the human race for the future.”

“Will I get the chance to examine some of the races that are in the morgue?” Jemma asked.  Then, realising just what she was saying, she immediately back-tracked.  “I mean, not in a gruesome way, and I don’t want to be disrespectful…”

“It’s fine,” he assured her.  “I understand the need to know.  Actually, that may come up at some point in your time here, but for now we’re just going to stick to the artefacts.  If you’re interested, I can get you the files our own Head Medic has made when he preformed the autopsies for you to read.”

“That would be fine,” she answered.  She hadn’t wanted to come across as a ghoul, but the very idea of studying an unknown alien race…

“Just don’t leave any sort of dead things in our lab,” Fitz said snippily.  “I still remember the cat.”

Jemma rolled her eyes at him.  “It was just a cat, Fitz.  And you know there was a valid reason for that…”  She really wished he’d drop the whole cat thing.  It had been years ago, and she was tired of hearing him complain about it.  It hadn’t smelled that bad, honestly…

Second Jones laughed.  “Jemma, if you’re interested in alien races, perhaps you’d like to meet our other resident alien?”

Jemma nodded, distracting her from her small argument with Fitz.  If this other alien was anything like Oscar, they were bound to be fascinating…

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

**_14 April 2010_ **

**_Torchwood House_ **

**_Aberdeenshire, Scotland_ **

 

Second Jones led them out of the Archives and into the expansive grounds around Torchwood House.  The gardens were absolutely beautiful, just beginning to bloom in the still slightly cooler spring weather, buds hanging from the flowers, just waiting for their time to open.

The grass was well-trimmed, and the trees were gaining their new leaves as Second Jones took them down a path toward one of the decorative flower beds, where a figure was kneeling in the dirt, pulling weeds. 

Sir Archie had said that the second resident alien was acting as the gardener.  This must have been them.

“Good day, Kren,” Second Jones called out when they were close enough.

The kneeling figure arose, turning to greet them.  Jemma couldn’t hold back the gasp as she caught full sight of Torchwood House’s gardener, Fitz letting out the same sound as well.

This alien was absolutely _beautiful_.

And it might have been female, if Jemma was any judge of alien biology…which, admittedly, she was not, and an alien having obvious breasts and wider pelvic region might not mean the same thing and the last thing she wanted to be was gender-normative with someone who wasn’t human.  The _very_ last thing she wanted to do was commit a _faux pas_ based on physical appearance and the sundress the alien was wearing.  After all, some trees did trees have specific genders.  Jemma wasn’t a botanist, but she knew enough of plant biology that there were ways of telling if a tree was male or female, but did they apply in this situation?

The sundress revealed bark-like skin, dark brown with silvery undertones.  The tree-person had delicate features with green eyes, pupils large and gleaming with pleasure.  Thin, well-formed arms, with tiny leaves dotted along them, ended in long, mobile hands with six digits on each hand, one of which was raised in greeting.  The tree alien’s feet were planted firmly in the ground, and dirt rained down as they lifted them up and walked toward them, their shape not traditionally human, with tiny roots around the irregularly shaped base.

Several vines, their leaves just as brilliantly green as their eyes, fell about that striking face and waved in the breeze.  The alien gave them a sweet smile, revealing perfectly even white teeth.  “Good day, Ianto,” the alien replied, voice low and slightly sibilant. 

Jemma looked for the translator like Oscar had, but couldn’t find one.

“Kren, I’d like to introduce you to Dr Jemma Simmons and Dr Leo Fitz, our first participants from SHIELD.  Jemma…Fitz…this is Kren.  She is of the Forest of Cheem.”

Kren seemed a little wary of them, so Jemma decided to try and break the ice…although, in the back of her mind, she recognised that she was lousy at it.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she began, “you’re not at all what I was expecting.”  That didn’t sound good.  “I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting, to be honest, but a sentient tree…and you’re a Cheem? I mean, that’s fascinating…oh dear, I seem to be babbling…” So much for not making any sort of _faux pas_ …but it least it wasn’t over mis-gendering…

“But you really are fascinating,” Fitz joined in, in what had to be an attempt to save Jemma from any further embarrassment.  “You don’t seem to have a translator.  How do you know English?  And do you use a form of photosynthesis in order to survive, or can you eat regular foods?  I mean, you obviously have teeth, does that mean you’re carnivorous?  Or more likely omnivorous, I should think…”

Kren laughed, seemingly charmed by their questions.  “You are both adorable.”

That compliment had Jemma blushing.  “I’m so glad you’re not insulted by our questions,” she gasped in relief.

“Not at all,” the Cheem assured her.  “I understand how different I am from Earth races, so I was expecting some sort of reaction; however, I am aware that you are scientists, and scientists ask questions.  I shall be more than happy to share stories of the Forest of Cheem with you.”  She glanced over at Fitz.  “You are of Sir Archie’s sprouting?”

Fitz gaped for a moment, before he seemed to realise what she was asking.  “I’m his great-nephew, if that’s what you mean.”

She inclined her large head, the vines draping from it touching the ground.  “He is very proud of you, sproutling.  He has done nothing but speak of you from the moment he knew you would be coming.”

Fitz was embarrassed by that, and didn’t seem to know what to say.  “I…he was important to me while I was growing up.”

“And you are important to him still.”  Kren turned to Jemma.  “You are the biochemist, am I correct?”

“You are,” Jemma confirmed.

Kren laughed.  “Then you are doubly excused from babbling, as you put it.  Ianto can show you the files on my species, if you wish to see them.”

“When Kren came through the Rift,” Second Jones cut in, “she graciously agreed to let us take scans and samples.”

“How long have you been here on Earth?”  Jemma enquired, glad she now had confirmation of her assumption of Kren’s gender.  And she hadn’t even had to ask.

The Cheem considered.  “It has been seven summers, has it not, Ianto?”

“It has,” he agreed.  “This just seemed to be the perfect place for you to stay, so Jack and I made the arrangements to get you here.  Sir Archie was willing to get you settled.”

“Yes, your cities are smelly.  Out here…the air is fresh, and I am free to be myself.  Which is looking after these wonderful grounds.”  She looked back at Jemma and Fitz.  “I am not a scientist, so my contribution to Torchwood House is to take care of the many gardens here.”  She gestured with one of her long hands.  “I do enjoy the gardens.  They are not the Forest of Cheem, and there are none of my kind here, but this gives me purpose.  I am…content, here.  Besides,” she grinned, “I have Oscar.  He doesn’t stay in the lab all the time…although it is a close thing, and we have many things in common as we are both from the future and can share things we cannot with anyone else because of timelines.” She gave Ianto an odd look, one that Jemma couldn’t really identify.  “And, there is also Sir Archie, who comes to the House several times a month to check on me.  Well, until Torchwood House is re-opened, then he will be here full-time, and he is excellent company.  Now, from what Ianto has said, there will be more people here, and I shall not have the opportunity to get lonely.”

Jemma’s heart went out to her.  How horrible it must be, to be alone on a planet one didn’t belong on, surrounded by strangers who would more likely scream when they saw you than to stop for a chat?  Kren had been lucky, in that Torchwood had found her.  How many aliens arrived on Earth and didn’t have that support?

What happened to them?

Second Jones was watching her, and somehow Jemma just knew that he could tell what she was thinking.  His eyes were warm and fond, and were so much older than his face; she had to wonder just what he’d seen in this job to make them that way.  He seemed to understand her feelings toward the very idea that Kren could have ended up somewhere much worse. 

Maybe it was because he’d seen worse?

“We plan on having this place fully staffed within five years,” Ianto agreed.  “Some people we’ll hire, while there may be others from SHIELD who would decide to stay.  Also, UNIT will be shutting down here in the UK, which means there are scientists who may want to move here.  We’ll have to see what happens down the road.”

If Jemma was honest with herself, in that moment she wished she could be one of those people who could come to Torchwood full-time.  Yes, she and Fitz had only been there for not even a day, but there was so much wonder here, so many different people and things to learn and knowledge to gain.  There were aliens as well, and both Oscar and Kren were amazing in their own right. 

This was going to be an amazing six months.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

**_26 April 2010_ **

**_Loch Ness_ **

**_Scottish Highlands_ **

****

Well, when Sir Archie asked if she and Fitz wanted to come with him to visit with Nessie, Jemma had had no idea that he was talking about the actual _Loch Ness Monster_.

Apparently, Nessie was an alien cyborg called a Skarasen, brought to Earth by a race called the Zygons who’d used her lactic fluid for their nutritional needs.  According to Sir Archie, the Zygons had attempted to conquer the planet back in the 70’s…or the 80’s, he wasn’t sure and said some uncomplimentary things about UNIT dating protocols.  When the Zygons were defeated, Nessie had come back to the loch, the only home she’d known, and Torchwood had taken over her care since UNIT didn’t seem to want to be bothered. 

Jemma vacillated between wanting to meet the famous monster, and being scared out of her wits.

“But,” she asked, as Sir Archie drove, “how does something the size of what you’re describing stay hidden?”

“Och, the people living around the loch adore her,” he answered.  “They do as much to hide her as I do.  Plus, the loch is deep and there are a great many hidey holes for the lass.  There have been times when she’s had to use the underwater channel that leads out to the sea in order to keep out of sight, but she always comes home.” He chuckled.  “We get scientists and television presenters out at least twice a year.  We can’t have them accidentally finding evidence that Nessie exists, can we?”

“I do suppose it would he hard to explain an alien sea monster,” Fitz answered. 

“Exactly, lad.  We need to make sure she stays safe.  The Zygons used her to take down oil rigs in the North Sea, which was a mess and no mistake, but Nessie is actually quite shy.  The Zygons didn’t treat her all that well, which is a shame.  She’s quite a sweetheart once she gets to know ye.”

In the two weeks since she and Fitz had come to Torchwood House, it had been one amazing discovery after another.  They’d had a couple of other scientists join them in the time they’d been working, even as Toshiko and Mickey had gone back to their teams:  Malcolm Taylor, who was eccentric but quite harmless as well as brilliant; and Petronella Osgood, who was on the same sort of temporary assignment as Jemma and Fitz were, and who told the most fascinating stories about an alien called a Time Lord, who had a time machine and had saved the planet so many times that UNIT had lost count.  Malcolm had backed up her wild stories.

Jemma had asked Ianto – she was now comfortable being on a first-name basis with him – if Osgood’s stories were true.  He had admitted as such, but she could tell there was something her boss wasn’t saying about the mysterious Doctor.  Jemma might not have been a people person, but even she could tell that Ianto didn’t care for this Doctor one bit.

Osgood claimed that she didn’t know why Ianto was that way, either; but Jemma got the impression that she had some sort of guess about it that she wasn’t comfortable sharing.

Fitz had argued that time travel couldn’t possibly exist, and it had been quite a loud discussion over it between him, Osgood, and Malcolm.  Jemma and Oscar had sat back and watched.  The alien dromaeosaur had shared his bowl of popcorn with her, which Jemma had appreciated.

“We’ll be staying in Tulloch,” Sir Archie explained.  “That’s where all that ruckus with the Zygons happened, and since it’s a small village people know everything that’s gone on.  We’ll have rooms at the Fox Inn.  It’s been run by the MacRanalds for centuries, and old Angus is the seventh son of a seventh son, so he’ll try to convince ye that he has the second sight.  Believe him.  He does.  Oh, and he has no love for UNIT, because they never did pay him for commandeering his inn back when that first investigation into Nessie was going on.”

“The second sight?” Jemma couldn’t help but scoff.  “That doesn’t exist, surely.”

“I don’t know, Jemma,” Fitz answered slowly.  “I’ve seen a lot of strange things, and I didn’t live in the actual Highlands.  There’s a lot of places about that are rumoured to be haunted.  It was because of some of that weirdness what had me becoming a scientist.  Wanted to see if there was any truth to it.”

“Aye,” Sir Archie confirmed, “there are far too many fakers and charlatans out there, but once in a while ye’ll find someone who’s genuine.  The stories of my Gran had her being a witch, who could make it rain and convince the fish from the river to jump up into the boats, without any sort of bait needed.”  He smiled.  “Tulloch Moor is supposed to be the home of evil spirits, and from what I’ve heard it’s one of the many portals the Fae travel along.  Now, I’m certain a lot of that is just drunkards getting lost on the moor, and I’ve never seen anything myself, but who knows?  Just because I haven’t seen a thing, doesn’t mean things dinnae happen.  I’ve been trying to convince Jack to let me come out and investigate fully, but he and his team have gone up against the Fae and he won’t go along with it.  Can’t blame him, I suppose.”

Jemma met her friend’s eyes, and he shrugged in answer to her unspoken question.  She never would have believed in such things, but if Torchwood was taking it seriously…well, perhaps there was some truth to the old stories of toadstool circles and faerie lights?  It most likely wasn’t what everyone thought, but that didn’t mean that such strangeness didn’t exist.

Just in two weeks, Ianto’s threat about ‘broadening horizons’ was coming true. But, she was going to draw the line at magic.  Magic didn’t exist.  Jemma firmly believed in Clarke’s Law: any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.  There was no such thing, it was an impossibility.

Still, she wasn’t about to disagree with Sir Archie; that would be rude.

The village of Tulloch was on the southwestern edge of the loch.  It was a tiny village, made up of buildings that looked as if they’d all been built in the Middle Ages, with a single road through the heart of the place.  The Fox Inn was that stereotypical village inn, three stories tall with a lower level that was most likely some sort of pub.  A couple of vehicles were parked out front when Sir Archie pulled up; one was a blue SUV, and the other an old sedan of an indeterminate colour, both mud splattered and in need of a good wash. 

Jemma climbed out of the rear of Sir Archie’s Land Rover, tugging her jacket closed.  It might have been the last of April, but it was still chilly this far north, especially with the cold breeze coming in off the loch. 

Glancing around, she couldn’t help but notice the castle high on a promontory overlooking the loch, off in the distance.  It was a bit too far for her to really get many details, but Jemma thought the place looked a little rundown.

“Forgill Castle,” Sir Archie volunteered, once he noticed where her attention was.  “Been the seat of the Dukes of Forgill for centuries.  The last Duke was kidnapped by the Zygons and replaced by one of them.”

“And no one noticed?” she asked.

Sir Archie shrugged.  “The Zygons were shape-shifters.  No way to tell, since they could duplicate people perfectly.” He began striding toward the boot of the Land Rover. “Come on, let’s get our things put away then we can head down to the loch.  I’m anxious to see Nessie again.”

Once again, Jemma was left empty-handed as both the older Scotsman and Fitz took the bags into the inn.  The front room was warm and inviting, with overstuffed chairs set around a burning fireplace.  Carpeted stairs led up to the floors above, and the wall it was on was lined with portraits that, honestly, weren’t all that nice to look at.  A long check-in desk, made of a dark wood that was lovingly polished, was against one wall, three rows of boxes marked with room numbers hung behind it.

An ancient computer squatted on the desk, looking out of place amid all of the older furnishings.  There was an actual rotary phone there as well; Jemma hadn’t even been aware that those still existed. 

An enormous deer’s head, with a rack of really impressive antlers, overhung the check-in desk, the thing’s beady eyes staring down at them.  Jemma couldn’t help the shudder; it was as if it was watching her, and while she wasn’t at all superstitious there was something about it that gave her the willies.

A large, elderly man came out of a door just to the right of the desk.  His hair was grey, but his rather full beard was unapologetically ginger.  His kilt was well worn but taken care of, the sleeves of his blue pullover pushed up to his elbows.

He smiled widely as he caught sight of them.  “Archie!” If anything, his brogue was even thicker than Fitz’s great-uncle’s.  He turned dark eyes on Jemma and Fitz, and they narrowed slightly.  “Ah, I was wondering if ye taking two rooms meant someone would be coming with ye, but I was thinking it was that young Mr Jones.  It’s been ages since he’s accompanied ye.”

“It has,” Sir Archie agreed, “and be putting that second sight of yours away, Angus.  This is my great-nephew, Leopold, and his best friend, Jemma.  They’re visiting the House for a bit, and I thought they might enjoy meeting our Nessie.”

The wariness cleared from Angus’ gaze, and he smiled brightly.  “Ye’ve spoken of ye’re nephew before.  Tis nice to meet ye, lad.”  He held his large hand out to Fitz, who took it; his face twisted a little, and Jemma had to wonder about just how strong the grasp had been.  “And Miss Jemma, tis a pleasure.”  He offered his hand once more, but this time instead of shaking, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gallantly, his beard tickling her skin.  Jemma decided not to correct him on her title.  It didn’t seem all that important and it wasn’t an insult coming from the old Scottish gentleman.

“This old reprobate is Angus MacRanald,” Sir Archie laughed.  “Be careful, or he’ll charm ye into staying permanently.”

“The more, the merrier, as they say,” Mr MacRanald joined in with the laughter.  “Tulloch might be behind the times, but that’s part of its charm.”  He released Jemma’s hand.  “Now, ye’re rooms are ready, then I’m guessing ye’ll want to be calling Nessie.  We’ll be having supper at the usual time, Archie.”

Jemma found herself liking Mr MacRanald.  The man looked spry for his advanced age, and was certainly friendly.  “Thank you for having us, sir.”

“No problem at all, lassie.  Ye’re welcome back anytime.”

Fitz echoed her thanks, and Mr MacRanald’s smile was even wider.  “Enjoy ye’re stay with us, lad.”

Jemma had the distinct impression that she would, the Loch Ness Monster notwithstanding.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra chapter today!

 

**_26 April 2010_ **

**_Loch Ness_ **

**_Scottish Highlands_ **

 

The wind down on the loch was a bit stiffer than it had been in the village, and Jemma was glad she was wearing a heavy sweater under her jacket.

Despite the wind, the surface of Loch Ness was glass-calm, the scent of water and mud and mixed with the faint smell of dead fish tickling her nostrils.  Jemma was a city girl through and through, but there was something about Loch Ness that had her wishing for a cabin by the water, where she could go out and just sit and listen to the rustling of the leaves and watch the clouds overhead.  It was peaceful, like stepping back in time, and it stirred something within her that Jemma hadn’t known existed.

Sir Archie was standing right at the edge of the water, staring out over the loch, his face fond as he said, “It’s been my honour to look after Nessie for nearly two decades.  A part of me often thought of moving here permanently, and there are times when I wished I had.  But, responsibility has kept me away.”  He turned, first looking at Jemma, and then putting his full attention on Fitz, who was standing just a couple of paces away.  There was something in his eyes, something that Jemma couldn’t identify, but in that moment she didn’t doubt for one second that the older Scotsman truly loved her best friend.  She thought he was going to say something, but instead looked back out over the dark waters of Loch Ness. “Let me introduce ye, shall I?”

He pulled something from his jacket pocket.  It was a circular device, with a strange, organic composition to it even though it was obviously manufactured.  Sir Archie stroked his thumb across the face of the device, and a warbling sound began emanating from it.

“The Zygons would use one of these to aim Nessie in the direction of whatever they wanted attacked,” he explained as the sound began to echo over the loch.  “It’s been reprogrammed a bit, as the original signal also riled her up a tad.  This calls her, but doesn’t hurt her like it did before.”

Suddenly, the water began to ripple.  Jemma took an unconscious step backward as a large head rose from the surface, water streaming from greenish-brown skin.

The head itself was a good five feet in length, and nearly that in height.  The skin was smooth, but there were odd metallic strips along the powerful jaw, looking as if they’d been grown in place.  Dark eyes blinked down at Sir Archie as he deactivated the signal, and the creature – the Skarasen – pulled herself toward the bank, beaching herself half in, and half out, of the water, head lowering until it rested on the sand.  Jemma couldn’t tell just how long she was, but it seemed as if she was built along the classic plesiosaur lines, although the form was slightly off from the illustrations Jemma had seen of those prehistoric creatures in paleontological texts.  

Nessie made a noise that was part roar, part purr. 

It was…well, Jemma thought it was cute.

Sir Archie moved toward the Loch Ness Monster’s head, stroking his hand along her jaw, just above the metallic implants.  “There’s my girl,” he murmured fondly, like Nessie was some sort of enormous house cat.  “And how have you been, huh?  Getting enough to eat?” It was as if he was expecting her to answer his questions.  “Let me scan you, and make sure you’re healthy, alright?  But let me introduce ye to Leopold and Jemma first.”

Fitz was the first one to come forward; Jemma was too busy studying the alien creature that had been responsible for the legend of the Loch Ness Monster.  The part of her body that was out of the water was sleek and definitely built for swimming.  The flippers were large and somewhat ungainly on land, but Jemma knew they’d be powerful propelling her through the water.  If she had to extrapolate length from just the part she could see, Jemma had to guess that Nessie was about seventy-five to eighty feet long, but might have been longer since the Skarasen’s rear end and tail were fully submerged.  Her neck was at least a third of that length, sinuous and most likely graceful if it wasn’t laying flat on the beach.

“She likes you,” Sir Archie exclaimed.  Fitz was touching her large head, and Nessie made the same roar/purr noise from before.

The expression of sheer wonder on Fitz’s face…it was beautiful 

It made Jemma move forward herself. She was still afraid, but then who wouldn’t have been in this situation?  This was the _Loch Ness Monster_ that, up until just that moment, Jemma had honestly thought was mythical.  That Sir Archie was possibly playing a joke on them, although why he would do that she had no idea.  Still… _Loch Ness Monster_.  Sir Archie’s _Nessie_. 

She was _real_.

Jemma rested a hand on Nessie’s broad head.  The damp skin was warm and smooth, but then that only made sense.  Only a creature able to regulate its body temperature would have been able to survive in the cold waters of the loch.  One of those large eyes was looking at her, and she was reflected in the enormous pupil.

She laughed at the sheer joy of being one of the few people on this planet who knew that the Loch Ness Monster truly existed.

“Jemma, lass,” Sir Archie called, “come and look at this.”

She left her place at Nessie’s side and joined Sir Archie, who was holding some sort of scanner.  “We can check out wee Nessie’s physical condition with this,” he said, indicating the scanner.  “Before this beauty fell through the Rift, we had to do a full physical examination, which our girl wasn’t all that happy with.  Doctor Harper, down in Cardiff, would right bitch and moan about it.”  He laughed.  “Harper’s a twat, forgive my language, but he’s a damn fine doctor, and he cares despite denying it to anyone to accuse him of having real feelings.”

He showed her the device.  It was compact, with a large screen at the front and a handhold on the side, with buttons and dials under the scanner.  “Jack says it’s a Bekaran deep tissue scanner, but Toshiko’s adapted it for Nessie’s use.  We don’t want our girl getting sick, after all.”

He turned it on, and Jemma felt her mouth falling open at such comprehensive readings…and what odd readings they were.  She could sense Fitz watching over her shoulder as Sir Archie moved the scanner over Nessie’s body.

Excitedly, Jemma pointed to something on the small screen. “Is that the cyborg/organic interface?”

“That is amazing,” Fitz breathed.  “And what is that?”

“The Zygons used organic crystallographic technology,” Sir Archie explained.  “That’s a power node for the cybernetic implants.”

Jemma couldn’t believe what she was seeing.  The work done on cybernising the Skarasen was intricate and yet, at the same time, almost ham-fisted in its application.  “Is she in pain?”

“No, Jemma,” Sir Archie reassured her.  “I can understand why ye’d think that, but none of the cyber upgrades are hurting her.  That, we’re positive of.”

“Good.  Or else I might have to have a word with these Zygons,” Jemma said fiercely. 

A hand rested on her shoulder, and Jemma glanced up at the older Scotsman, who was looking at her as if she was some sort of revelation.  “Thank ye for that.  Not many people would’ve cared enough to ask.”

“She’s still a living being.  She doesn’t deserve to be in agony simply because someone thought it was a good idea to stick metal bits on her.”

Sir Archie was obviously touched by her concern.  He cleared his throat self-consciously.  “Let’s keep up with the scanning.”

The hum of the scanner competed with the contented sighs from Nessie as they worked.  Jemma couldn’t help but touch her, and she got the impression that the Skarasen was enjoying it.  She wondered how many times Nessie came up for a random petting.  Just from Mr MacRanald’s reaction and from Sir Archie’s comments, the entire village loved her.  Jemma could just see Nessie beaching herself like she’d done just then, and letting people come up to touch her.  They were protective of her, and Jemma thought it was sweet.

“Looks like we’ll need to milk her the next visit,” Sir Archie mused.  When Jemma took a peek at the scanner’s screen, he used a blunt finger to point out a structure that resembled a mammary gland, only with some odd structures.  “See here? That’s Nessie’s lactic system.  Since there aren’t any more Zygons to use the fluid as nutrition, we need to take out the fluid ourselves, or else it’ll go sour and the glands will become infected.  It doesn’t hurt her, and it keeps her from becoming ill.”

“What do you do with the fluid once it’s drawn out?”  Jemma would be interested in testing it, to see what it consisted of.

“We’ll take it back to Torchwood House and dehydrate it, then burn the remains.  We can’t just dump it into the loch; there are proteins in it that damage the pike that live here.”

“Do you think Ianto would let me analyse some?”

“Sure, lass.  I doubt he’d have an issue with it.”  He winked.  “He may also be willing to share the files on Nessie and the Zygons.  Our Ianto encourages learning, which I’m sure you know by now.”

She did.  Jemma had been on the receiving end of one of Ianto’s teaching binges.  It was quite nice, actually.  He reminded her one of her instructors at SHIELD Academy, to be honest.

“Do the files have information on these implants?” Fitz asked.  “The engineering behind them is something I’ve never seen...” He seemed to realise exactly what he said, because he began to backtrack immediately.  “Of course, yeah…it’s alien tech, of course I haven’t seen anything like it before…”

“No worries about that, Leopold.  And yes, there’s information on the implants and the crystalline technology that the Zygons used.”

Unexpectedly, Nessie turned onto her side, her neck twisting to look at them.  She opened her mouth, revealing sharp teeth, and if an alien sea monster could look content, she certainly did.  That little roar/purr happened again and, without warning, her tongue lolled.  It looked as if she was laughing at them.

“Ye’re nothing but a big, alien cat, aren’t you, my girl?” Sir Archie practically sang.  He shook his head.  “It’s amazing how tame she is now.  Back then, she was made to attack oil rigs, and the loss of life was terrible.  But, once the Zygons stopped controlling her, she became just like this.”

“Why would they do anything like that to her?” Fitz demanded.

“Why do conquering alien species do anything?” Sir Archie shrugged.  “They wanted to rule and they were willing to hurt a sentient being in order to attain their goals.  A lot of the races who come here looking for trouble are that way. It’s something we all learn when we come to Torchwood.  But, as ye’ve seen, there are peoples out there who are kind as well.  Oscar might appear a fearsome beastie, but he’s nothing but a sweetheart.  And Kren…did she tell ye about how her race came to be?”

Jemma nodded.  Kren had been happy to share her people’s history with them.  It had turned out that the Forest of Cheem had descended from Earth’s own rainforests, their evolution tampered with and sped up by a benevolent alien race who didn’t want the original rainforests to disappear.  It sounded like a bizarre form of conservation and, while Jemma wasn’t sure she liked the idea of aliens performing unauthorised experiments on others, she could see why it was done.

“The advanced race that originally took their samples from the rainforests had had only good intentions, although it might have been done differently.”  Sir Archie smiled.  “And it gave us Kren, who’s become one of my dearest friends, so I can’t say naught else about it.  But, there’s good and bad out there, and ye’ve now seen examples of both.”

When Jemma had first accepted this assignment, it had seemed like such an opportunity to learn so much more about the universe beyond Earth.  It had certainly been that, and they were only two weeks into their six month assignment.  How much more would they learn in the rest of their time with Torchwood?

 Jemma couldn’t wait to find out.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

**_10 June 2010_ **

**_Torchwood House_ **

**_Aberdeenshire, Scotland_ **

****

“Look,” Fitz was saying, “I just don’t think this is what you think it is.”

Jemma wanted to laugh at Malcolm’s irritated expression; it made him look like a puppy who didn’t like the food his owner had put down for him.  He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up onto his nose, and began arguing again the reasons why he believed the latest device from the Archives was, in fact, an advanced particle gun.

Fitz thought it was a toaster.

“Are they at it again?” Ianto murmured.

“When do they actually stop?” Osgood asked, taking a puff from her asthma inhaler.

Jemma would have been concerned if she hadn’t known that this was just how Fitz and Malcolm interacted.  She had never met anyone quite able to push Fitz’s buttons as Malcolm Taylor, and vice versa.  Fitz thought it was entertaining, as he’d confided in her after their first blow-up over a piece of technology.

Jemma didn’t quite understand it, and she’d known Fitz for years.

“We should just leave them to it,” she suggested.  “Oscar and I have the results on that strange sand we found.”

“After you.”

Ianto motioned her toward the lab door, and the three of them left the pair of scientists to ‘talk out’ their issues.  Osgood shut the door behind them, cutting off the row in mid-rant.

“Those two give me a headache,” Osgood groused.

“Me, as well,” Jemma agreed.  It was like watching a child not get what they wanted, really.

“You know,” Ianto said, “I can always transfer Malcolm to either Cardiff or London until your assignment is complete, Jemma.”

She waved his concern away.  “I wouldn’t.  Honestly, this is the most passionate I’ve seen Fitz on _anything_ , and it’s probably good for him.  He’s enjoying it.”

“If it gets too bad, let me know.”  Ianto rested a hand on her shoulder.  “You and Fitz are too valuable for me to lose, and I can always bring Malcolm back later on.”

“I shall, but I doubt it will get that bad.”  Malcolm was going to be permanent there at Torchwood House; whereas, she and Fitz only had about five months left on their assignment.  It wouldn’t be fair that he be removed even temporarily.  Besides, as she’d said, that Fitz was enjoying himself arguing with the man all the time.

 “I’m going to head back down to the Archives,” Osgood said.  “Me and Anna are still going through the known artefacts and getting them sorted.”

“If you need help,” Ianto replied, “let me know.”

After agreeing with that request, Osgood headed toward the lift, the tails of her lab coat flapping out behind her.  Jemma quite liked Osgood – who hated her first name even more than Fitz did – and hoped to keep in contact once they were back at SHIELD and Osgood was back with UNIT.

Oscar was in the bio-lab, now running some tests on a vial of blood that had been found in the refrigerated area of the Archive.  It has been marked as Time Lord blood, but Ianto had doubted it; not because there wasn’t any such thing as time travelling aliens out there, but because it was the wrong colour.  Oscar had been more than happy to try to figure out what it actually was.

“They are arguing again?” Oscar asked, sounding amused.  Jemma had learned how to judge his vocalisations without the translator; she still needed him to wear it, if she wanted a valid interpretation of his speech, but the actual tone in his given language had become simpler for her to pick up on.

Jemma didn’t even dignify that with a response.  “I told Ianto we have results on that sand.”

Oscar gave her a toothy smile, removing the specially made sterile gloves he was wearing.  “Indeed, and it is quite fascinating.”  He tapped his claws gently against the keyboard of his computer, bringing up the analysis. 

They were discussing it when their comms sounded.  Jemma was getting used to having the tiny thing in her ear, but it had taken her days to get it set to a comfortable volume.

 _“Ianto,”_ came an American accented voice over the earpiece, _“we’re here.”_

Their bosses’ face lit up, and he touched his ear, clicking on his own comm.  “I’m on my way.”  He turned to Oscar and Jemma.  “The first shipment of artefacts is here from UNIT.”

“I shall stay and work on the blood analysis,” Oscar said.  He grinned that vast, toothy smile once again.  “Please give my best to Captain Harkness.  I am certain I will see him before he leaves.”

Jemma couldn’t help her own grin.  She was finally going to get to meet Torchwood’s Director.  She’d heard quite a lot about Jack Harkness, and was looking forward to seeing if he lived up to the stories.  He was a very popular leader, his people respected him and even liked him. 

Something must have shown in her own face, because Ianto said, “Well, let’s get your partner in crime and head up.”

Jemma nodded.  She was really excited about it.

 

**********

 

Captain Jack Harkness was nothing like Jemma had imagined.

For one thing, he was a bit younger than she’d believed; if she had to guess, she would have put him late thirties, early forties.  He was handsome, with a strong bone structure and well-formed jawline and forehead.  His zygomatic arch was also quite striking.

He was tall, and a little broader than Ianto.  He was wearing a long military coat, and he managed to pull the look off it with so much aplomb that, if it was possible, he might have been born in it.  Everything about him screamed ‘film star’.  Except for the very obvious gun that was holstered at his waist.

Oh, and apparently the stories she’d heard from the others at the House were true, Captain Harkness was definitely in a monogamous relationship with his Second.

It was actually quite cute, to witness their reunion.  Also, just a tad embarrassing, at the kiss they shared.  Fitz sort of twitched beside her, and she turned and shrugged at him.

“It’s fine for you,” he hissed, “you’re a closet romantic.”

She couldn’t deny it.

There were two others with Captain Harkness, standing beside the lorry that read ‘Harwood’s Haulage’ on the side, and had been used to cart up the load of artefacts. The man who’s climbed out of the drivers’ seat was stocky and looked as if he laughed a lot.  He had dark hair and dark eyes, wearing a leather jacket and jeans, and his face broke out into a wide grin as he caught sight of Ianto’s and Captain Harkness’ reunion, which had progressed far enough that Jemma was beginning to blush. 

“Oi, you two!” he called out, his accent deeply Welsh, “get a room!”

Captain Harkness broke away from the increasingly hot lip lock, smirking at the man.  “We will, as soon as we get this lot unloaded!”  His was the American voice they’d heard over the comm.

The woman who’d also exited the lorry was black, and was dressed in a dark blue pantsuit that didn’t fit in with just having ridden in a rather large lorry.  She held herself with what Jemma thought was military precision and, while she couldn’t tell if the woman or Welshman were also armed, Jemma was willing to bet they were. 

“Are they always like that?” the woman enquired of the Welshman, and it was obvious she was a Londoner.

“Yeah,” the man answered.  “You get used to it.”

“I haven’t agreed to come to work for you lot yet.”

The man raised an eyebrow.  “You really think Himself is gonna let you get away?”

“Is there something I should know, Jack?” Ianto asked, giving them him his own, questioning, eyebrow.  Jemma had come to know that the Eyebrow could speak volumes.  It was like learning a new language.

“Yep,” Captain Harkness said.  “This is Captain Erisa Magambo, and her record with UNIT is very impressive.  I’m trying to lure her away for Patrick; he could use someone with military training on his team.”

“Professor Taylor has mentioned you, Captain,” Ianto replied, offering her a handshake. 

Captain Magambo accepted it.  “I’m sure it wasn’t anything good, sir.  We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

Ah, that was where Jemma had heard that name before.  Malcolm had been extremely put out with his last posting with UNIT; apparently, there had been gun aiming involved when he’d refused to follow a direct order and to close a rift between dimensions, in order to give the others trapped on the far side of it a chance to make it back to Earth.  It had been yet another Doctor story, and she had to wonder if Torchwood hired everyone who’d once met the enigmatic, so-called, Time Lord. 

“And these must be our current SHIELD helpers,” Captain Harkness commented, and suddenly Jemma found herself pinned by those rather intense blue eyes.

It was as if he was looking into her soul.  If she thought Ianto’s eyes were old, then Captain Harkness’ were practically ancient.  There was something in that gaze that had Jemma wondering just what the captain had seen in his life, and how it had affected him.  She wasn’t about to ask, but something had to have occurred to put that expression in them.

But the smile he favoured her with was sincere and brilliant.  “Welcome to Torchwood,” he greeted her.  “I’ve heard some really good things about you, and we can only hope that the next round of scientists coming up here are as equally up to the challenge.” His hand was warm, and it held hers a little longer than was usual, but Jemma found she didn’t mind all that much.

“Thank you, Captain Harkness,” Jemma said, equally sincere.  But for some reason she was blushing like mad, and she wasn’t sure why.

“Jack,” Ianto warned.

“I can’t say hello?” Captain Harkness actually pouted, which had the Welshman by the trucking laughing.

“Of course, you can,” Ianto answered, “but there’s hello, and then there’s _hello_.”

Oh God, was the Captain _flirting_ with her?

Captain Harkness winked at her, and then did the same thing with Fitz, which had him stammering like she hadn’t heard in ages.  Apparently, the man was an equal opportunity flirter, taking the chance to make an innuendo toward her friend, and Jemma felt…she wasn’t sure what that was, only that it was hot and it made her stomach hurt.  Perhaps it was acid indigestion.

“Rhys,” Ianto called out, “can you please drive the lorry round to the back?  We can unload there.”

“Course, mate,” the Welshman – Rhys – answered, tipping a two-fingered salute in his direction.  He climbed back up into the lorry’s cab, starting the engine manoeuvring the large vehicle around toward the rear of the house.

“Ye realise ye’re making my great-nephew uncomfortable, Jack,” Sir Archie spoke up.  Jemma hadn’t seen him come out of the house.

Jack gave the older man a sunny smile.  “But he’s just so cute!”  Then he released Fitz’s hands and pulled Sir Archie into a fierce hug.  “Looking good, Archie.”

“You too, Jack, and don’t be making Ianto jealous,” the elder Scotsman chuckled. 

“I don’t get jealous,” Ianto denied, amused.  “Jack’s the jealous one.”

The captain pulled away from Sir Archie, and made a ‘Who, me?’ gesture toward his chest.

“Yes, you,” Ianto smirked.  He then turned to Captain Magambo.  “You were assigned by UNIT to accompany the artefacts on their journey?”

She snapped to attention.  “Yes, sir.”

“I’m sure you’re quite good at your job, but UNIT doesn’t usually only have one guard on such an important shipment.”

“It wasn’t just a case of them being confident of my skills, sir, but of also not wanting to draw too much attention to the lorry by assigning it an official escort.”

“Come in, and I’ll make certain your paperwork is signed.  You can have some coffee while you wait for the lorry to be unloaded.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Please, don’t call me ‘sir’.  It’s either Second Jones, or you can call me Ianto if you prefer.”

A smile seemed to flicker about Captain Magambo’s lips. “Of course, Second Jones.”

“I thought that would be the one you’d choose.”

Before Jemma even knew she was speaking, she shouted, “He’ll wear you down until you call him by his given name!”

Captain Harkness laughed, as did Sir Archie, while Fitz actually facepalmed.  Jemma felt her face grow hot in embarrassment.

“She’s not wrong,” Ianto agreed, grinning.  “Now, come on inside, and we’ll get to the unloading.  Oh, and I should warn you…Jack usually gets what he wants, as I do, and if he wants you for Torchwood he’ll do his best to sell you on it.  If you don’t want to join, just tell him.  He won’t be insulted.  In fact, he’ll most likely turn up the charm to about a thousand percent.”

“Thanks for the warning.”  Then Captain Magambo glanced toward Jemma.  “Both of you.”  Her face was blank, but her eyes were showing just how amused she was. 

“Come on, you two,” Sir Archie urged, “let’s get to that unloading while the others talk business.”  He draped an arm around Jemma’s shoulders.  “And you, lass…best be careful, or Ianto will have Jack turn on the charm with you and Leopold, as well.  I believe the pair of you would fit right in around here.”

Jemma was beginning to consider any such offer as something she might consider.

 

**********

 

Osgood, Anna, Malcolm, and Oscar all met them at the loading area, a ramp that led up from the lab area to a large door at the rear of the manor, where Rhys had parked the lorry. 

He was standing there, and he introduced himself to those who didn’t know him already.  Rhys Williams seemed to be a jovial sort, who was the Logistics Officer for Torchwood and had an ‘in’ when it came to renting lorries from Harwood’s.

“They couldn’t have done this next week,” Malcolm groused, “when the next round of scientists were due to arrive.”

Jemma had to agree, at least in part.  Three more were scheduled to arrive Monday: two more from SHIELD, a pair of other scientists that Director Fury wanted to add to an alien taskforce he was setting up in order to find and contain 0-8-4’s whenever one was discovered; and a computer expert that someone had actually poached from the American FBI, of all places.  From what they’d been told, the computer expert was going to be taking over some of Toshiko’s duties, once she was trained up on mainframe.  Fitz had asked why she was coming here instead of moving to Cardiff, and Ianto had explained that they wanted to get the expert – named Penelope Garcia – used to the artefacts and the proper protocol for handling them, and he was the one who usually did that sort of thing.  Plus, this new technician would be working out of Torchwood House anyway, so it was best to get her used to being around the residents of the manor.

But, there was also the very real fact that Malcolm Taylor was one of those scientists who preferred not to have to do any sort of physical labour.  It wasn’t that he was lazy; no, it was more the idea that he felt such duties were beneath him.  He was one of those geniuses who believed they should be catered to, and it had led to more than one argument before Ianto had had to step in.  Malcolm had _opinions_ , and wasn’t afraid to voice them.

This was the man who’d named scientific principles after himself. 

 _Honestly_.

“We were actually expecting the newbies yesterday,” Mr Williams – no, call me Rhys – answered, “but there was some sort of delay with the SHIELD people, and Penelope had some issues with getting away from the FBI.  Apparently, she was indispensable, and her superiors were trying to get her to stay up to the moment she got on the actual plane.  Tosh is going to be bringing her up tomorrow.”  He passed a tablet to Osgood.  “You mind checking things in as we unload?”

Malcolm opened his mouth to say something, but Fitz poked him in the ribs to get him to stop.  Osgood, with her asthma being the way it was, was the perfect choice to keep from the heavy lifting.  Yes, she had her inhaler, but when she had an attack it was awful.  Jemma was glad she’d only seen it once, because that was enough.

It took them about an hour to get the lorry unloaded and all the containment boxes checked in.  Many of the artefacts looked to have been identified, but she knew that Ianto would want an actual, visual inventory done.  Still, it was obvious something was missing, just from Osgood’s frowning.

“What’s wrong?” Rhys enquired, standing beside her and glancing over her shoulder at the tablet.

“We have two boxes listed on the database that aren’t here.”

Rhys said something softly under his breath that sounded Welsh, but that Jemma was willing to bet was a curse.  He reached up to touch his comm.  “Jack…Ianto…we’re missing a couple of things from the shipment.”

The strange echo of him standing there and Jemma hearing him over the tiny earwig was a little off-putting, but she didn’t want to switch it off in case she missed anything important.  The comms had taken a little getting used to, but now she didn’t know how she was going to go back to not having one, once they were returned to their lab at the Triskelion.

 _“What are we missing?”_ Ianto’s voice sounded slightly tinny over the miniature speaker.

Rhys rattled off a couple of ling lines of numbers.  “The inventory says they’re a Raxacoricofallapatorian compression collar and the remains of Project Indigo.”

Jemma had read about the Raxacoricofallapatorians, and couldn’t imagine out what someone would want with one of their compression collars.  She wanted to ask about Project Indigo, but guessed it was over her clearance level…or someone would let her know if it was important.

Judging from Jack’s tone over the comm, it was actually very bloody important.

_“I’m going to have Erisa call Brigadier Bambera about the Indigo device.  That should have been in the shipment, and I don’t trust anyone else with it, even if it’s been decommissioned.”_

“We’ll get the rest of this lot put where it needs to go,” Rhys said.

 _“Then come on up to the dining room,”_ Ianto invited, _“and bring everyone else up with you.  The cook’s been busy.”_

Which, Jemma had come to know, meant that there was enough food for an army…or a handful of starving Torchwood scientists.  She sometimes wondered what the food budget for Torchwood House actually was; with Oscar and Ianto, who ate enough for four people, it had to be tremendous.  She knew how Oscar put away that much, as he had a metabolism that ran almost non-stop, and also kept some of the best snacks in his lab…and was willing to share.  Ianto, though, she thought should weigh about double what he actually appeared to, with the sheer amount of food he put away. 

Her stomach rumbled, and she decided that tucking in and getting this work done would get her lunch faster.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

**_19 June 2010_ **

**_Torchwood House_ **

**_Aberdeenshire, Scotland_ **

****

 

One of their SHIELD recruits had been Jasper Sitwell, whom Jemma remembered from Geneva.

He didn’t last very long.

It was also her first experience with a stroppy mainframe.

She’d had the lecture and read the notes on Torchwood’s crystalline super-computer, but this was the first time she’d seen mainframe take an instant dislike for someone.

It didn’t make sense.  Agent Sitwell had been a nice guy, back when he and Agent Barton had escorted their science contingent to witness the activation of the Large Hadron Collider.  Agent Sitwell had even helped out, sneaking around and managing to take down the mad scientist of the piece.  But, for some reason no one could identify, mainframe absolutely _hated_ the man.  She would shut down any terminal that Sitwell was next to and, when she did deign to let him work, mainframe would deliberately throw up the wrong information…and, on one memorable instance, gay porn.  The noises that had emanated from the speakers had been…well, hot.

And disturbing.

And disturbingly hot.

Agent Sitwell was transferred back to SHIELD within three days.

Now, Agent Cameron Klein…he, mainframe _loved_.

Not as much as she did Toshiko, or Toshiko’s new Second, Penelope Garcia, but she was always willing to let him work without interrupting and was always getting him whatever he needed in the database.  She cooperated with him in the same way she did with everyone else…except for Fitz, who was another of her favourites.  Oscar hadn’t been afraid of teasing him for it, which Fitz accepted with much blushing and stammering in embarrassment.

Jemma had noticed that Ianto was also one of those that mainframe appreciated, and he would actually speak to her aloud whenever he was working at one of the stations in either the labs or in the Archives.  It was actually fairly sweet.

Mainframe liked Jemma just fine, but not quite to the extent she did Fitz and, really, she was fine with that.  Oscar got about the same amount of attention that Jemma did, but Malcolm not as much, but it wasn’t enough to affect his work.  Anna, though, would sing while she worked, and mainframe reacted to that favourably. 

Honestly…a sentient computer.  Jemma wasn’t certain she could ever go back to the regular system at her lab at the Triskelion.

Today, she and Anna were working in the main Archive, Anna with her handheld scanner and Jemma with her tablet, checking the contents of several crates that looked as if they’d been packed rather haphazardly.  Jemma quite liked Anna; she was quiet, and a hard worker.  She was also one of the nicest people Jemma had ever met, always sharing whatever snacks she happened to have carried with her in her rather voluminous pockets. 

Jemma wanted to know where the archivist had gotten that coat, because she wanted one just because of those pockets.

Today, it was Jammy Dodgers.  Jemma _loved_ Jammy Dodgers.  Fitz was more into Maltesers, which were also nice but they weren’t _Jammy Dodgers_.

 “Can you check the label on this for me, Jemma?” Anna asked, holding up a plastic bag with the older Archive number on it. It seemed to hold some sort of metallic box.  “It’s not coming up in the newer Archive programme.”

“Sure.”  Jemma used her stylus to tap the number into the tablet’s interface.  The scanner worked well enough as long as the item was in the main system, but the tablet had a direct connection to mainframe, and would often pull up the item when the scanner wouldn’t, especially if it was under the older Archive identification criteria.  Toshiko kept saying she was going to update the scanner’s own interface, but she hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

Information began flooding the tablet’s screen.  “Mainframe says it’s a puzzle box from…why are some of these planetary names so crazy?”  This one had all consonants with various forms of punctuation marks thrown in for good measure.  “It’s rated harmless.”

Anna sighed.  “I will be so glad when all of this has been logged into the new system.  Ianto’s archival system is so much better than the older one.”

Jemma had to agree.  Ianto’s system was based on dates when it was found and what the object was.  None of this seemingly random number combinations that made no sense.  “I’ve got the marker.  I’ll just notate the information on the bag for later scanning.”

“Thanks, Jemma.”  Anna gave her a smile, as Jemma pulled the Sharpie from her trouser pocket, marking down the new Archive designation on the plastic as her friend held it steady.  Well, Jemma considered it a Sharpie, when in fact it was some sort of indelible marker from the future that had fallen through the Rift, along with five hundred of its fellows. 

Some of the most useful things got dumped on Cardiff.  Some of it was also completely useless, like the collection of alien toasters that were in the database.  And Fitz had won _that_ argument with Malcolm over that item they’d gotten into it about the other day.

“Have we been through this crate yet?”  Anna asked.  Then she answered her own question when she scanned the barcode on the side of the wooden slats.  “It appears not.  Let’s get the thing opened and see what UNIT has graced us with this time.”

For someone shorter and tinier than Jemma, Anna had a lot of upper body strength, but then from what she’d learned about her compatriot Anna had been a soldier before coming to Torchwood.  Using the crowbar that had taken up residence in the Archives for just such a purpose, it was barely a minute later that the two of them were pulling the lid of the crate off, and setting it aside, Jemma reaching in and carefully removing the packing material.

Inside the box, was a strange, metallic, sphere. 

It had weird markings on it, and wasn’t completely smooth.  There appeared to have once been some sort of appendages on it, but they were broken off, leaving sharp barbs of metal behind.  There was a groove that divided the ball into four hemispheres; the upper edge of one of the hemispheres was bent away, and Jemma could just see some sort of hollow space within. 

The thing looked…well, it seemed familiar, but Jemma couldn’t place it.

Apparently, though, Anna could, judging from the gasp she let out.

Jemma turned to regard her.  Anna’s face, while naturally pale, was now ashen, her eyes wide in horror as she stared at the thing in the crate.  Jemma called her friend’s name, but Anna didn’t respond, so she did the only thing she could.

She called Ianto on her comm.

 _“What is it, Jemma?”_ his calm voice prevented her own panic at Anna’s unresponsiveness from taking over.

“I need you down in the Archives.  We found something…and Anna’s reacted badly to it.”

_“I’m on my way.”_

Jemma was relieved by his quick response.  Ianto had been gone for a week, returning yesterday; there’d been some sort of ceremony in London, because the Torchwood team had been officially re-commissioned there.  From what she’d heard from Sir Archie – who hadn’t gone; he’d simply laughed when asked why – even the Queen had attended. 

While she waited, she took Anna by both shoulders and maneuvered her away from the crate, searching for a chair and finally seeing one of the rickety wooden things that looked as if they were about to collapse at any moment.  She pushed Anna down onto it, reaching out and pressing her fingers against Anna’s wrist, checking her pulse.

It was far too fast for Jemma’s liking.

Obviously, Anna was in some sort of shock.  Her skin was clammy, her breathing rapid.  Jemma forced her head down between her knees, urging her to breathe and not to panic, that Ianto was on the way to fix whatever it was that was wrong.

Ianto seemed to get there almost immediately, Toshiko following on his heels.  “What happened?” he asked sharply. 

Jemma knew that tone wasn’t aimed at her, so she didn’t take offence.  “We were checking that crate.” She motioned toward the open box.  “Anna had a reaction to what was inside.”

As Ianto strode toward the crate, Toshiko knelt beside Jemma. “Is she going to be alright?”

Jemma nodded.  “She’s just had a bit of a shock.  She must have recognised – “

She was interrupted by Ianto.

It was obviously cursing he was doing, even if some of it was in languages she wasn’t familiar with.

Jemma hadn’t heard him say that much profanity in the time she’d known him.  His eyes were narrowed, and Jemma finally understood what 'incandescently angry’ meant.

“Ianto?” Toshiko stood and joined their boss at the crate.  She looked inside, and her face also paled, but it didn’t appear as if she was going to join Anna in her shock.  “How did UNIT manage to get a hold of a Toclafane?” she exclaimed in dismay.

“What’s a Toclafane?” Jemma asked, although the name was vaguely familiar to her.

She didn’t think that either Ianto or Toshiko heard her question.  “They should have all vanished when the paradox rewound.”  He had his mobile out, cursing again when he realised he couldn’t get a signal that far underground.  “I’m going to contact Winifred and see what she has to say.”

Toshiko nodded.  “I’d like to think she didn’t know about this.”

Now, _that_ name Jemma knew.  Brigadier General Winifred Bambera, current head of UNIT in the UK.  From what she’d gathered, Torchwood was quite friendly with Brigadier General Bambera, so whatever that…Toclafane was, it had to have been bad if they were wishing the Brigadier wasn’t aware of it existing.

“You’ve most likely heard of them, Jemma,” Anna’s weak voice answered her.  “They were the First Contact scenario that Prime Minister Harold Saxon used to get President Winters here, in order to assassinate him.”

Of course.  She remembered that now.  “But wasn’t that dismissed as a hoax?”

“Cover story,” Toshiko said.  Jemma jumped a little; she hadn’t even heard her move.  “The world wasn’t ready to know that the Toclafane were real.”

Ianto walked past, resting a hand on Toshiko’s shoulder.  “I’ll be back in a tick.” Then he headed out of the Archives in order to make his call. 

“I didn’t see them myself,” Anna added, “but my brother…he did, and he told me all about it.  I’m sorry,” she looked up at Toshiko, “I didn’t mean to lose control like that.”

“No apology necessary,” Toshiko reassured her.  “I still have nightmares about the Toclafane.  I know Ianto does as well.”

Now, this _did_ sound bad.  If these so-called Toclafane were that awful…

“I know you have questions,” Toshiko told her gently, “but this affair is above your clearance.  It’s been classified at the highest levels.  Even your Director Fury doesn’t have all the facts, and Anna’s brother could have gotten into serious trouble if it had come to light that he’d told even his sister. However, I’ll say this: this was a terrible thing, but Torchwood took care of it.  There aren’t many people in the world who are even aware the events surrounding that metal ball of death even exist.” She gave Jemma a quiet smile.  “And don’t think you can sweet talk mainframe into giving you the files…it won’t work.  She knows better.”

How she’d worked out what Jemma had planned on doing was beyond her. 

Damnit.

However, she’d come to trust them all in the short time she and Fitz had been working here, and Jemma knew that Toshiko would have shared if she’d been able to.  And, to be completely honest, she wasn’t at all certain she wanted to know the story, just from everyone’s reaction to that thing in the crate. 

“Why don’t I take Anna upstairs and get her a nice mug of tea,” Jemma suggested, knowing that Toshiko and Ianto – when he returned – would need privacy to discuss what they were going to do.  Besides, Anna certainly looked as if she needed the tea.

“That is an excellent idea,” Toshiko agreed.  “And Jemma…”

“Yes?”

“You really don’t want to know what happened with the Toclafane.  Trust me on that.”

She did.  Judging from the haunted expression on Toshiko’s face, Jemma knew she was speaking nothing but the truth.

It just communicated to her that there were far too many terrible things out there, and that she really didn’t need the nightmare fodder.  Also, that there were people out there who would do their best to keep such things from occurring.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

**_2 July 2010_ **

**_Torchwood House_ **

**_Aberdeenshire, Scotland_ **

****

“I think there’s something wrong with Kren,” Sir Archie announced, sounding almost frantic.

Jemma looked up from her microscope, frowning.  “What’s going on?”

“Her bark looks almost grey, and she’s lost two of her head vines.  I didn’t notice anything amiss yesterday when I went to see her, but today…”

Sir Archie looked distraught.  But then, Kren was a friend, and Jemma could certainly understand.

“I can take a look, but I don’t know a lot about her physiognomy.”  Jemma was a biochemist, not a horticulturalist, and from what she _did_ know Kren was an actual tree, only one with sentience and a few extra internal organs.

Sir Archie was obviously relieved.  Jemma only hoped that his faith in her wasn’t misplaced.  “All we have on her is in mainframe.”

Jemma nodded; she’d read it all just after she’d first met Kren but she didn’t have it all committed to memory.  “Fitz, can you get my kit for me?  I’ll pull up the records on my tablet as we head to the garden.” 

Her lab partner nodded, digging under the bench for Jemma’s equipment. 

“Sir Archie,” she turned to her friend, “do you have that fancy scanner that you use on Nessie handy?”

“I’ll fetch it while you go and check on Kren.  She’s in the larger rose garden and I’ll meet ye there.”

Suiting action to his words, the elder Scotsman left the lab, practically running for the lift.  Jemma wondered idly why he hadn’t called on the comms, but dismissed it as she used her tablet to bring up the necessary information.  He’d probably simply forgotten in his rush to find help.

“Perhaps we should have Oscar with us,” Fitz suggested, hefting the silver case that held the things that Jemma had put together in their time with Torchwood.  “He’s known Kren almost as long as Uncle Archie.”

“Plus, he has future knowledge,” Jemma added, agreeing.  “He might know something about the Cheem that isn’t in the files.”

That decision made, both of them left their lab and made their own way toward the lift, collecting Oscar on the way.  The intelligent dromaeosaur was upset over the news, and vowed to help in whatever way he could.

The larger of the two rose gardens on the Torchwood grounds was toward the back of the property.  Jemma practically jogged along the path toward the area, worry for Kren overcoming everything else.  Kren was one of the gentlest beings she’d ever met, and Jemma hated thinking that something was seriously wrong with her. 

How horrible would it be, to get sick away from your family and friends and with no way to get in touch with anyone you’d once known?  What would it be like if Kren died in an unfamiliar timeline and place, forgotten to time itself?  Tears burned her eyes, and she angrily brushed them away.  It wouldn’t do any good to be upset yet; Jemma had no idea what was even wrong, and it might be something easily fixable.  From what Kren had once said, the Cheem had a very long lifespan, and it wasn’t as if she was completely alone.  She had everyone there at the manor, plus quite a few people who weren’t around at the moment.  Kren _wasn’t_ alone…she was just away from her own people.  She’d made a home there, and was as content as she possibly could be.

Jemma would do her best to make certain that Kren was around for a long time to come.

As they approached the rose garden, Jemma could make out the Cheem, standing there, and she could tell immediately that something was very wrong.  Sir Archie was correct: two of the long vines that flowed from Kren’s large head were missing, and the Cheem’s bark had a decidedly ashen undertone to it.

Her green eyes were a bit listless as she greeted them with a tired smile.  “Sproutlings, thank you for coming.”

“How are you feeling?” Jemma asked solicitously, her inner scientist coming to the fore.  She might not have been a medical doctor, or the correct sort of scientist, but she wanted very much to help her friend with whatever was wrong.

“It came on so suddenly.  I felt like myself last night…but, this morning, when I awoke, I noticed that one of my head vines had broken off during the night; another one fell out just before Sir Archie came out to bid me good morning.”

Jemma rested her hand on Kren’s bark.  It was warmer than usual, which was worrying.  “Any symptoms you can describe for me?”

“I feel…sluggish, as if my sap is not moving as it should.  Also, my leaves seem to be drier as well.”

“You’re getting plenty of fluids?”

“It rained last night, so I was able to bask in it.”

Jemma nodded.  It had been more than a rain; it had stormed for a short time.  Kren didn’t look as if she’d been struck by lightning, so that was most likely out.

“I’d like to get a sample of your sap, if I may.”

“Of course.”  Kren held out her arm.

Fitz had her kit open, so Jemma reached inside and pulled out a large bore syringe, hoping it would be enough.  She carefully ran her fingers along Kren’s bark-like skin, hoping she would be able to tell where a vein was simply by touch.  If not, she’d have to wait until Sir Archie got back with the Bekaran scanner.

“Here.”  Kren gently took Jemma’s questing hand in hers, guiding her to a place just under the Cheem’s elbow.  “You should be able to find something.”

Jemma gave her a grateful smile.  “Please let me know if I hurt you.”

As gently as she could, Jemma inserted the needle between two sections of bark.  Kren shuddered, her leaves rattling, but she remained quiet.  Jemma drew the sap as quickly as possible; it was a clear, greenish shade not at all like blood.  She handed it to Oscar, who took the vial carefully in his well-trimmed talons.

“How long have you had this?” Fitz spoke up.  He’d rounded Kren, Jemma knowing he would be looking for anything out of the ordinary.

“What do you mean?” Kren enquired as Jemma carefully bandaged the needle site.

“Jemma, can you come round and take a look at this?”

She didn’t like the tone of his voice. 

Jemma circled Kren to see what Fitz wanted to show her, knowing that Oscar was following.  She gasped, unable to keep the sound in, at the sight that caught her eye.

Kren was wearing one of her ubiquitous sundresses, this one in sky blue, so her shoulders were bare.  On the left shoulder, just to the side of the dress’ spaghetti strap, was a lesion about the size of Jemma’s palm.  It was oozing some sort of black puss, and looked very painful.

“What is it?” Kren asked.

“Are you having any pain in your shoulder?” Jemma wanted to know.

“What is it?” Ianto’s voice said.  He was then beside them, actually hissing at the sight of that wound. 

“I…have,” Kren admitted.  “I did not think it was anything serious.”

“I’ll need to get a sample.  Fitz, can you please get me what I need?”

“Right away.”  Her friend bustled over to the kit.

By the time he’d returned and handed Jemma a sterile pipette and a petri dish, Sir Archie had also joined them.  “Ah, lass,” he whispered. 

“Does anyone have a camera in their phone?” Jemma asked. 

Ianto nodded, pulling his phone from his pocket. 

“Can you get me several views of this please?”

Ianto went to work with his phone, the click of the shutter audible over the sound of birdsong.

“What is it?” Kren demanded again.

“You have some sort of sore back here,” Jemma explained as she carefully scraped a little of the secretion away and into her sample dish.  This time, the flinch Kren made was even worse.  “I’ll want to clean it and get a dressing on it, to protect it.  And, to do that, I’d like for us to be back at the House and under somewhat sterile conditions.”

While Kren spent most of her time on the grounds, Jemma knew that she did, indeed, have a room up at the manor; she just didn’t stay there for days at a time.  Being an evolved tree, Kren much preferred being outside, under the wind and rain and sky.   

But something like this…  “The risk of infection is greater if you stay outside,” she went on, coming to stand in front of Kren.  “The last thing we need is for insects and such to get into the open wound.  Besides,” Jemma gave her friend a smile that felt just a little forced, “this will allow us to keep a closer eye on you, to make certain nothing else happens while we try to figure this out.”

“Alright,” Kren acquiesced.  “But you know I don’t like staying indoors too long.”

“Hopefully we’ll figure this out quickly.”

Honestly, Jemma didn’t know if she was up to the task. 

She stood aside as Sir Archie began escorting Kren toward Torchwood House.  She stifled a worried sigh.  Botany certainly wasn’t her strong suit; she’d had the bare minimum needed for her Biology PhD, but that was it. 

“Jemma,” Fitz said, touching her elbow and making her jump a little, “we can do this.”

She appreciated his faith in her, but wasn’t certain if it wasn’t misplaced.  Still, she would do her best, and having her best friend at her side would help.

“Oscar,” she called out to the alien dromaeosaur, “can you take the samples back to the lab and get started?  I want to see to that wound before anything else.”

“Of course,” he answered. He accepted the petri dish with the secretions in it and, along with the vial of sap, headed toward the manor house. 

“What do you think?” Ianto murmured.

“I’ll be honest,” she sighed, “I don’t know much about plant biology, and Kren is an alien plant to boot.  It might be something her people have experience with, although from her reaction I kind of doubt that.  It could also be something she picked up here on Earth, and if it is…hopefully, the tests Oscar will start on those samples will give us a clue.”

“If it is something from Earth,” Ianto said, “perhaps if we can consult some sort of specialist, one that won’t need to see Kren directly, and they can pinpoint it without going into too much detail.  Why don’t you give Penelope the symptoms and see if she can pull something either out of the Archives or off the internet as well?”

“Excellent idea.  I’ll also want to use the Bekaran scanner to see if there’s something internal that can be linked to the physical symptoms.”  She’d noticed that Sir Archie had, indeed, gotten the scanner from wherever it was he stored it when he wasn’t up at Loch Ness.  She’d watched him use it then, and hopefully between her and Fitz they would figure it out. 

Jemma touched the comm in her ear to activate it.  “Penelope?”

Not even a second later, the American’s voice said in her ear, _“What can I do for you, Ms Genius?”_

Jemma couldn’t help the smile.  Penelope Garcia had immediately nicknamed each of them, and some of them were hilarious…all of them on point. 

So, she explained what she needed.  When Penelope heard that it had to do with Kren, she immediately turned serious.  _“I’ll let you know as soon as I get something.”_

In a lot of people, that certainty that she would, indeed, find something could have been considered hubris, but in Penelope she was simply stating a fact.  Jemma had heard Toshiko say that Penelope was just as good as she was when it came to research, which was saying something.

“Thank you,” Jemma said gratefully.

_“Let me know how she’s doing, okay?”_

“You know I will.”

“Let’s get back to the house,” Ianto suggested.  “I’ll upload the photos to mainframe while you take care of Kren.”

“And I’ll get out those drones we’ve been working on,” Fitz added.  “Maybe I can find something in the area that might have been a sort of stimulus for this.”

Ianto clapped him on the shoulder.  “If they work half as well in the field as they do in the lab, you should be able to find it…if it’s there to be found.”

Fitz had, with permission, been working on a set of drones in his spare time, using various pieces of alien tech that Ianto approved to make them smaller and more compact, as well as giving them the ability to fly.  There were seven of them, each with a different function, and Fitz had taken to calling them his ‘seven dwarves’.  There’d been some concern that Torchwood might retain them after their assignment was complete, but Ianto had assured them that this would not be the case, that this was Fitz’s intellectual property and, despite the alien tech built into them, that Torchwood’s Second trusted them with it.  He’d also asked if Fitz wouldn’t mind sharing the plans with them, so that they could possibly build their own set of drones, and Fitz had agreed.  They both had also reassured Ianto that no one would get their hands on the dwarves, and that they would stay proprietary to Fitz…and Jemma as well, since she’d helped with some of the calibrations.  It hadn’t been necessary, but Fitz had insisted that Jemma was as important to the project as Fitz himself was, and that she deserved credit as well.

Jemma didn’t argue, although she knew that Oscar had helped out as well, and yet Fitz wasn’t making a big deal out of the alien getting an equal amount of credit.  When he’d heard, Oscar had simply given Jemma a knowing smirk and hadn’t said anything.

She had to wonder what that was all about.

“Well,” she said, “let me get back to my patient.  Let’s see what we can do for her.”

 

**********

 

The bark under the open sore was discoloured and Jemma thought necrotic, but there was no way to really tell.  Perhaps, if Kren had been a proper tree, it would have been obvious; however, her alien physiognomy meant that she couldn’t exactly trust the very little knowledge she had on the subject.

Kren had laid down on the bed that had been assigned to her, on the guest floor and down from Jemma’s own room.  The Cheem tried to keep still as Jemma cleaned the area, but it was obvious that it was painful, and Jemma was as careful as she could be, using sterile saline and several wipes to get the awful black secretions cleared away. 

Sir Archie sat beside them, holding Kren’s delicate-looking hand in his, doing his best to soothe her as Jemma worked.  Ianto stood near the door, leaving Jemma to it; he told her she was taking point on this, giving her the responsibility of taking care of their resident alien.  Jemma didn’t know if she was up to the task, and she was unbelievably nervous about making a mistake, but she also knew she had help from the main Torchwood team whenever she needed it.

The scanner had shown her Kren’s inner biology, but it was as alien as she was and matched what her files showed.  The thing was, she was very obviously tree-like, but there were enough internal organs that were completely _un_ -tree-like.  It was amazing and confusing at the same time.

Oscar was still down in the lab, but Jemma hoped to hear from him soon.  She’d told him to go ahead and send his results on to Dr Harper in Cardiff and Martha in London, so she was also expecting to get their feedback as well.  But, as the most qualified on site – still, not with any botany or horticultural experience – it was Jemma’s duty to do the best job she could.

 _“Hey, guys,”_ Penelope’s voice came through the comms, _“I think I have something.”_

“What did you find?” Ianto enquired. 

 _“I used the photos that Ianto uploaded, as well as the description you gave of the symptoms, Jemma, and came up with_ Phytophthora ramorum.”

 “Can you send it to my tablet please?” Jemma asked, reaching for the small computer, where she’d set it on the bedside table.

_“Already done.  And, for those who aren’t within Ms Genius’ tablet range, it’s a relatively new tree infection that’s only been around for about a year.  It primarily affects larch trees, but can also infect certain types of flowering plants, like camellias and rhododendrons.”_

“We have rhododendrons in the gardens here,” Sir Archie replied.

 _“Checking now,”_ Fitz chimed in, from where he was using the dwarves out in the grounds.

“I was in that area three days ago,” Kren spoke up.  “I noticed there were many plants whose leaves were blackened and withered.  I reported it to Sir Archie.”

“Ye did, lass, and I called for someone to come out and check.  They’re due to be out tomorrow.”

Jemma was busily reading the information that Penelope had discovered.  It seemed that _P. ramorum_ was a fungus, which explained some of what she was seeing within the wound on Kren’s shoulder. 

 _“I am going to chime in,”_ Oscar came on the line.  There was no way he could wear one of the communicators: for one reason, it didn’t fit within his ear canal.  For another, it wouldn’t work with his translator.  So he was reliant on a larger unit that had been set up for him in the lab. _“I performed the preliminary analysis of Kren’s sap, and there does appear to be some sort of fungal infection.  Her immune system is attempting to fight, but it is not very successful at this time.”_

“Kren isn’t an Earth species, though,” Ianto commented.

“No,” Jemma said, “but she is _evolved_ from Earth trees.  This particular fungus may be latching onto whatever part of Kren’s genome that still carries that Earth DNA.”  She shook her head.  “If she was human, I’d prescribe a course of anti-fungal medication as a treatment.  However, we don’t know if they’ll work with her, since she’s a plant-based lifeform.”

“But what about plant anti-fungal treatment?” Sir Archie asked.

“There are certain fungicides, yes.  But those might not work, because of Kren’s alien physiognomy.  And, for complete transparency here, according to what Penelope was able to find, there is no cure for _P. ramorum._ Fungicides will only halt progression of the fungus…not kill it completely.”

“But as you said,” Ianto replied, “Kren is an alien.  That might be for Earth plants’ however, there are enough differences in her DNA that the fungicides might get rid of the infection totally.”

“True,” Jemma conceded, “but I’d want to do some tests first, to make certain that our Earth-based products won’t do even worse damage than just ameliorating the symptoms.”

 _“I can confirm that it’s that whatever Penelope said,”_ Fitz spoke.  _“I’ve found evidence of it in the rhododendron bed.”_

“Alright then.”  Ianto’s face turned implacable.  “Jemma, I want you, Oscar, and Fitz to work on this problem.  If you need help from anyone, co-opt them from their own duties and tell them what you need.”

Jemma considered.  Really, none of the others at Torchwood House had the necessary background to get involved…not that she did, as well, but at least she had enough of a biology background to recognise something in the tests that might help.  Malcolm and Osgood were different sorts of scientists, and Cameron and Penelope mainly worked with computers…namely, mainframe.  She might need either one of them to help out online, but for the actual testing…no, the best ones for that job was herself and Oscar, and Fitz was an admirable lab partner. 

“We’ll do the best we can,” she said, although she wasn’t sure exactly what that was.

“Your best is good enough,” Ianto replied.  “I’m going to consult the Archives and see if we have anything that might be of use.”

“Jemma,” Kren murmured.

She met her friend’s eyes.  They were cloudy with pain, but fully engaged.  Jemma took off her sterile gloves and reached out, holding Kren’s cool hand.  “We’ll take care of you.”

“I trust you,” the Cheem whispered.  “I know you will do whatever you can.”  She sighed.  “I’d like to speak to Ianto…alone, if you don’t mind.”

Sir Archie looked as if he was about to argue, but Ianto rested a hand on his shoulder, and the Scotsman rose from his seat.  “Alright, love, I’ll leave you with Ianto.  Call if you need anything, alright?”

“I shall.”  Kren gave him a tiny smile. 

“I’ll be in the lab,” Jemma told her.  “If you start feeling worse, or the pain gets stronger, you need to let me know.”

Kren nodded. 

Jemma squeezed her hand once more, then left the room, her heart breaking a little but, at the same time, she was determined to find something to help Kren.  She wasn’t about to accept defeat.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

**_3 July 2010_ **

**_Torchwood House_ **

**_Aberdeenshire, Scotland_ **

****

Jemma’s eyes were gritty from lack of sleep and her back ached from being hunched over her equipment, knowing that time was of the essence.  She knew she couldn’t rest, not when Kren was just upstairs, the fungus in her sap growing more and more pronounced as the hours turned.

It was amazing how well she and Fitz worked with both Oscar and Ianto.  Well, Oscar she’d known; after all, she’d shared a lab with him when she wasn’t with Fitz.  But Ianto…he had a work ethic that put them all to shame, only leaving the lab when absolutely necessary, like when he went to track down something in the Archives that he thought they might be able to adapt to help.  He’d also been on the phone with his team in Cardiff, conferencing in Toshiko and Dr Harper, an acerbic man whom Jemma would have gladly given a piece of her mind to at any other time.  On the outside, Dr Harper didn’t seem to give a fig about Kren, but she could tell that he really did. 

It struck Jemma that he must have been really hurt at some point it he was willing to hide his caring nature under such a rude façade.

There had also been talks with Martha in London, who had considerably more experience with alien races than even Dr Harper did.  She hadn’t met Martha in person, even though she’d also been in Geneva, but Jemma had been impressed with her almost from the moment they’d first talked.  He couldn’t wait to get to know her better, and almost wished she could visit the other teams, just to say hello.

Ianto had had various artefacts flagged for perusal, in hopes that they would be able to use something.  There had been a couple that were particularly intriguing, such as the 28th century blood filters and the photosynthesis bombs that had been listed as being from an alien world several thousand light years from Earth. 

“The latest tests show that the fungus levels in Kren’s sap are steadily increasing,” Oscar reported.  Although the translator didn’t actually translate emotion all that well, Jemma was getting used to listening to his normal speaking voice, and she could hear the sadness in the growling and chirping of his own language. 

“I know,” she sighed, straightening. Her back creaked in protest.  “At this rate…I would have to give Kren three days, maybe four.  And she’s going to be in terrible pain through most of it.”

“You should all rest,” Ianto suggested.  It wasn’t fair that he looked so fresh when Jemma felt every minute she’d stayed up past her bedtime last night. Honestly, sometimes she wondered if he wasn’t strictly human.  With Torchwood, one could never tell. “None of you have left the lab since yesterday.”

Fitz blew out a long breath.  “I don’t think I can, not with knowing that any time we aren’t working is time we aren’t trying to help Kren.”

“Agreed,” Oscar said.  “We shall continue.”

Torchwood’s Second gave them all a smile that warmed his eyes.  “I thought you might say that.”  He’d taken up space at one of the computer terminals in the corner of the lab, the better to remain close to mainframe in case she decided to throw them some other idea.  Knowing mainframe, it was entirely possible, although it hadn’t happened yet in this case.  It had Jemma questioning whether it would, since they’d input all the information they had and still hadn’t gotten anything.

“There should be a way to synthesise some sort of fungicide that we could inject intravenously and that wouldn’t damage Kren’s surrounding sapwood.”  Jemma rubbed her eyes.  Every single type of fungicide they could get their hands on had proven to have too many deleterious effects on the samples they’d taken from the Cheem. 

It was frustrating. And disheartening.

“And we cannot dilute the various fungicides enough to stop the damage without them losing their efficacy,” Oscar added.

“If it comes down to it,” Ianto said, “we can always transport Kren to Cardiff and put her into cryofreeze until we can find some sort of cure.”

Jemma was stunned.  “Torchwood has viable cryo-technology?”

Fitz was equally shocked.  “How is that possible?”

“How do you keep cellular structure from developing ice crystals?”

“What sort of power requirements does the system take?”

“And there’s the issue with probable brain damage – “

Ianto was watching them bemusedly.  “I’m not the expert, so I can’t answer your questions, I’m afraid.”

Fitz actually pouted.  Jemma knew how he felt.  To be able to freeze a body without catastrophic icing was the holy grail of various preservation sciences…

And then, it hit her.

“Of course!” Jemma exclaimed excitedly.  She did the one thing she always did when an idea came to her and she needs validation.

She turned to her best friend.

“Suppose we target the individual clumps of fungus with intense cold – “

Fitz’s hands were moving as they often did when he was in the throes of invention.  “We can fabricate a nanotube firing mechanism to inject the medium directly onto the clumps of fungus – “

“And Kren’s very biology makes her extremely cold resistant – “

“We’d have to use some sort of filtering device in order to strain the dead fungus from Kren’s circulatory system – “

“And if we can pinpoint freeze the sore on her shoulder, then the surrounding bark would simply grow back over the scarred tissue!”

Fitz’s eyes were bright with the excitement of brainstorming.  Jemma knew exactly how he felt.  Her mind was already whirling with all sorts of possibilities, confident that it could very well work.

There were fingers clacking on a keyboard, and Jemma noticed that Ianto was typing quite furiously at his computer.  “We might have something that can be adapted,” he said, frowning…but it was in concentration, not because he thought it was a bad idea.  In fact, judging from the speed he was going, he was just as excited as she and Fitz were.

Oscar had also begun to pace, his dactyl claws tapping at the slate flooring.  He was mumbling so low it wasn’t being picked up by his translator, but Jemma could tell his own min was working through the equations. 

“Fitz,” Ianto called, “can you tell me if this is something that might be useful?”

He immediately joined Ianto at the terminal, as Jemma motioned for Oscar to stop his pacing.  “We need to work out just how much icing it will take to freeze the fungus completely.”

“I am attempting to compute those parameters now,” the dromaeosaur said. “We will do this.”  He sounded absolutely convinced of that.

Jemma thought they just might save Kren’s life.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting two more chapters this week, and then the final chapter next Tuesday. Then, on next Thursday the 18th, my Marvel Bang, "The Wizard and the Void" goes up in its entirety. After that, I'll be gone for nearly four weeks, after which the next Dragon-Verse story, "Aftermath", will be going up and will be posted on its regular schedule, since I'm not finished with the sequel to "The Wizard and the Void" yet. (That story is going to hit 200,000 words. Crap.)

 

**_27 August 2010_ **

**_Torchwood House_ **

**_Aberdeenshire, Scotland_ **

****

_“I hate to interrupt, oh knight-type boss,”_ Penelope said over the open comm, _“but Iron Man just landed in the courtyard.”_

Jemma’s eyes widened, and she turned to stare at Fitz, who looked just as shocked.  “Wait…” he literally squeaked, “ _Tony Stark_ knows about Torchwood?”

“He does.”  Sir Archie pinched the bridge of his nose in tired dismay.  “Bloody hell…and Ianto’s off in Cardiff for that incursion.”

Jemma wanted to hug the man, he just looked so distraught.  The four of them – including Oscar – were out in the garden, watching as Jemma ran the last diagnostic on a now fully recovered Kren.  It had been an extremely slow process removing all of the fungus from her sap, but the Cheem had finally regained all of her strength, and was back to her gardening duties…now that the last of the _P. ramorum_ had been banished from the area.  The treatment hadn’t exactly been pleasant, either, but Kren had weathered it as stoically as she possibly could.  Her bark wasn’t quite back to its usual silvery brown, but it was getting there, and there were sprouts now where her missing head vines had been.

The entire affair had made her realise something about Fitz’s great-uncle:  he very much loved Kren, only he didn’t seem to know that he did.  All the pining was actually pretty sweet.

“Tony Stark is here?” Oscar’s translator didn’t translate the excitement in his true voice _at all_.  He sounded like Darth Vader telling them that he was disturbed by their lack of faith. 

It was hilarious, and Jemma barely held in her laughter.

“Are ye a fanboy, Oscar?” Sir Archie asked, sounding aggrieved.

“I do not know what that means.”  Oscar’s large head cocked to the side, like he did when he was confused.

“I’d better go and head him off at the pass.”  The older Scotsman wasn’t going to explain apparently, instead choosing to practically jog toward the house.

“Should we accompany him?” Kren wanted to know. 

“We should,” Fitz answered, a little too quickly.  He didn’t even wait for them to start off; he was practically running after Sir Archie.

No, Oscar wasn’t the only Tony Stark fanboy.

But then, Jemma thought the billionaire was quite brilliant, herself.  If a bit arrogant.  And, if half the stories were true, quite the playboy, although that was balanced out by his philanthropy.

She grinned.  “Come on, then.”

Together, the three friends followed Sir Archie and Fitz toward the manor, Jemma setting a faster pace than she would have normally.  Alright, so sue her…she’d love to actually meet Mr Stark as well. 

She also wanted to know exactly how he knew about this place, because as far as Jemma knew it was above top secret…judging from the ache in her wrist once she’d finished signing all the forms she’d had to when they’d agreed to be a part of the programme. Including the Official Secrets Act, which was far more paper than it truly needed to be, in her opinion.

By the time they’d reached the courtyard, it seemed like everyone in Torchwood House had gathered just to see the infamous Iron Man.  He certainly looked better than he had in the newscasts of the dust-up at Stark Expo, the faint glow of the arc reactor showing through the old Metallica t-shirt he was wearing.  He really was much better looking in person, if she had to admit that to herself. 

Malcolm had obviously struck while the iron was hot – no pun intended – and was busily monopolising Mr Stark’s time as Sir Archie gently tried to peel the scientist away, without much luck.  Mister Stark seemed amused by the entire thing, which was a good thing Jemma supposed.

Osgood looked as if she was having a panic attack, and Sir Archie took the time out of attempting to distract Malcolm to say, “Petronella, sweetheart, please use your inhaler.”

He was the only person there who could get away with calling Osgood by her first name, simply by dint of the fact that he was just so _polite_ about it.  It also didn’t hurt that Sir Archie was more like a benevolent grandfather to them all at this point.

Osgood nodded jerkily, reaching into the pocket of her lab coat for her asthma medication.  She put it in her mouth, triggered the pump, and took a deep breath.  It seemed to help get her lungs back under control.

“Nice place you have here,” Mr Stark commented, his intelligent eyes taking in the manor.  “There’s even an observatory?  How quaint.”

Jemma didn’t want to say that the observatory wasn’t what he thought it was; that it was, in fact, a fairly complicated alien werewolf killing device.  She wasn’t sure he’d believe it, really, or how to explain it.

It was about that time that Mr Stark noticed the alien dromaeosaurid.

Sir Archie noticed as well, and the sigh he let out was audible over the undignified babbling that Malcolm kept on with even though Mr Stark was obviously not paying attention anymore.

“I had no idea I’d be stepping into _Jurassic Park,_ ” he quipped, although Jemma could tell he was just a bit concerned.  Well, who could blame him?  Oscar _did_ appear to be very fierce, with all those formidable teeth and dangerous-looking claws.

If what Penelope had said over the comm was true, then Jemma could infer that he’d arrived in his armour, but there was no sign of it at the moment…unless it was in the rather large case sitting at Mr Stark’s feet.  How did he get all that armour into that small case?

Which was yet another marvel.  Fitz was most likely drooling at the moment.

Jemma didn’t dare look at him, because she didn’t want to break down into laughter.

And, well…she didn’t want to give away the fact that she was just a wee bit starstruck as well.

Sir Archie was once again pinching the bridge of his nose.  He was mumbling something under his breath, something that Jemma couldn’t make out, yet sounded disgusted.  “Oscar…Kren…and ye both thought it were a good idea to show yourselves to the unannounced visitor?”

“But…it is Tony Stark,” Oscar objected, which had the effect of making their guest start in surprise. 

“O…kay,” Mr Stark drawled, “a dinosaur that sounds like Darth Vader, only without all the heavy breathing.”

“I will excuse your ignorance at my race,” Oscar said magnanimously, “since you have not had experience with my kind before.  However, I am not a dinosaur…I am an intelligent dromaeosaurid from another planet and in the far future, and you may call me Oscar.”  He held out a three-fingered hand.

Mister Stark eyed the hand for a second, then grasped it in a surprisingly earnest manner.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Oscar.  I take it you came through the Rift?”

Alright, he knew about the Rift as well…

“I did indeed.  Torchwood brought me here, where I aid in the labs and the Archives.”  That many teeth on display meant that Oscar was very pleased.

Once past the awkward moment, Mr Stark didn’t seem fazed by all that danger on display.  Which was either vary brave, very stupid, or a sign that he trusted Torchwood not to set anything on him that could eat him.

Then, he caught sight of Anna, and the wide smile he’d been wearing for Oscar’s benefit faded into something that could have been akin to pleasure.  He walked right up to her, ignoring everyone else. “Ms Chang, it’s nice to see you again.”  He gave Anna a little bow.

“And you, Mr Stark,” she greeted him graciously, returning the bow.

“Wait,” Malcolm spluttered, “you know Mr Stark?”

“I do,” she answered.  “We met in Cardiff last year.  Mister Stark managed to come very close to tracking down Torchwood.”

“After a game of Tag that everyone on the team seemed to enjoy playing,” Mr Stark agreed genially. 

“Rhys has his selfie with you as his screen saver still.”

“Of course he does.  He has good taste.”

“Is there a reason for ye’re visit, Mr Stark?” Sir Archie attempted to regain control of the situation.  Which Jemma wasn’t sure was possible at this point.

“Of course there is,” the billionaire answered.  “Wait…do you have a sentient tree working here as well?”

Kren nodded her large head, the small sprouts of the regrowing vines she’s lost while ill wiggling with the movement.  “I am Kren, of the Forest of Cheem.”

“The more I know about Torchwood,” Mr Stark said bemusedly, “the more I wanna work with you guys.”  His sharp dark eyes trailed around the rest of them standing there.  “You also seem to have cornered the market on adorable geeks.  That is so not fair.”

“Not the first time I’ve been called that,” Penelope admitted quietly to Jemma, who completely understood.

“I object to being called adorable!” Malcolm exclaimed heatedly.

“Of course he would,” Jemma said back to Penelope.  She and the former FBI computer technician had become quite friendly, even to the point where Penelope felt comfortable offering Jemma fashion tips.  Jemma thought her friend’s idea of putting a bright red streak in Jemma’s hair was something that needed to be honestly considered, although she was drawing the line at shorter skirts and corsets.

“Well, it’s not like he actually _is_ ,” Fitz chimed in, just as quietly.  Cameron, standing beside him, nodded in agreement.

“Aw, how adorable,” Mr Stark cooed at Malcolm, whose face turned red in rage.  “However, to the reason I’m here.”  He clapped his hands.  “I’ve been speaking with Ianto, and he said something about getting a robot to help handle some of the more dangerous shit the Rift drops on Torchwood’s lap.  I actually do have an appointment…but, apparently, Ianto isn’t here…?”

Penelope had her PDA in hand, tapping into the interface.

“There was fairly major incursion in Cardiff,” Sir Archie answered.  “He was recalled for a couple of days.”

“Yeah, aliens wait for no man…”

“Mister Stark,” Penelope spoke up, “according to the schedule your appointment isn’t until next week.”

He gave her an incredulous look.  “I’m pretty sure it’s today.”  He tapped the Bluetooth device that was dangling from his ear.  “JARVIS, check my schedule and confirm that I was supposed to be at Torchwood House today…”

Fitz had his jaw practically on the ground.  Jemma could understand.  In certain scientific circles, people knew about Mr Stark’s AI; it wasn’t common knowledge, but SHIELD had been buzzing about it ever since the genius had become a consultant.  There was an entire section of SciTech that was working on a SHIELD specific artificial intelligence, and not making much inroads, even with access to several scholarly papers on the subject.

When Fitz had discovered that one of those papers had been written by Toshiko under an assumed name, Jemma thought he was going to swoon.

Penelope seemed a bit confused; but then, would the FBI have necessarily known about JARVIS?  Jemma fully expected Fitz to corner her at some point to discuss it, and to drag everyone else into it.  She already knew that Malcolm would be insufferable about it, although he really didn’t have the right to be. But then, Malcom had a tendency to insufferability.  If that was an actual word.  If it was, there would be a picture of Dr Malcolm Taylor next to the definition in every dictionary.

Jemma was getting used to it.  And it wasn’t as if he was rude about it, since he genuinely thought that about himself and wasn’t putting on unnatural airs.  She’d found she could put up with it easily in that circumstance.  Fitz, though, still got into arguments with Malcolm on a daily basis, and was having a blast.

“Oh,” Mr Stark spoke into his earpiece.  “You don’t need to get sassy with me, J.  I have you to keep track of all that shit.”  He shrugged.  “Okay, I’m off by a week.  However, since I’m already here…”  He gave Sir Archie a pleading expression, although there was a glint in his eyes that said he was fully expecting to be catered to.  “Or, I can go and look up Ianto in Cardiff, see I they need any help…”

Sir Archie apparently considered that some sort of threat, because he quickly responded.  “No, Mr Stark, we can take ye on a tour now, if ye wish.”

“I wish.”  He held out a hand.  “I’m sorry, but you seem to be in charge but we haven’t been properly introduced, and I can’t keep calling you ‘Random Scottish Guy’ in my head.”

That had the Scotsman laughing.  “Sir Archibald MacLeish, at ye’re service.  Please, call me Sir Archie… everyone else does despite me asking them to drop the ‘Sir’ part.”

“Sounds good, Archie.”

Sir Archie turned to look over his shoulder, amused.  “See, children?  That’s how it works.”

Nope, Jemma thought she’d never be able to be that familiar with the man.  It just wasn’t happening.

“Come on then,” Sir Archie offered, “and let me show ye the area of the Archives we’re going to be putting the more dangerous materials.”

“Awesome.  Let me get my case and we’ll get this done.”

Jemma glanced toward Fitz as they all headed back to the house.  This wasn’t at all what they’d thought this assignment was going to be; they’d been shown things that no one else had ever seen before.  But, to actually meet Tony Stark…just how hard was it going to be, to go back to their lab at the Triskelion?

That was a good question.  One that Jemma had been pondering for a while now.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

**_6 September 2010_ **

**_Torchwood House_ **

**_Aberdeenshire, Scotland_ **

****

_“Jemma…Fitz,”_ Ianto’s voice said over the comm, _“may I see you both in the sitting room, please?”_

Jemma looked up to see her friend staring at her, confusion screwing his face up somewhat adorably.  They were both in the lab that day, alone; Oscar was down in the Archives with Anna, helping her with a bit of heavy lifting.  The lab always felt a little empty without the dromaeosaurid in it.

Jemma reached up to toggle on the comm.  “We’re on our way.”

She quickly yet efficiently got her materiel put away and the centrifuge shut down, as Fitz finished up what he was going with a strange box that no one had seemed to be able to figure out.  She hated being stopped in the middle of her work, but Ianto wouldn’t have called unless it was important.

Together, they left their lab, passing by the one shared by Osgood and Malcolm, who were working on something else.  Osgood happened to glance up, giving them a quick wave as they went by, and Jemma returned it. 

They took the lift up to the main house, heading toward the sitting room where Ianto had made his office.  They’d each spent time up there, the Welshman having made it as comfortable as possible for anyone working there.  There were settees and chairs in front of the ornate fireplace, a large antique desk against the wall opposite.  The entire room was cosy, with thick rugs and heavy brocade curtains, each in shades of red, bright against the dark wood of walls and floor.

Ianto wasn’t alone in the sitting room; Director Fury was with him, looking very much out of place within the genteel surroundings.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Jemma managed to greet him, once the surprise had worn off.

“FitzSimmons,” the Director said in return. 

Ianto didn’t look pleased when he said without preamble, “Director Fury has requested the pair of you return to the Triskelion.”

“But, sir…we have one more month before our time is done here,’ Fitz objected.  Jemma nodded in agreement.  It was too early; they weren’t ready.

“I’m aware,” Director Fury said, amused, “however, it’s come to my attention that…certain people,” with a glare toward Ianto, “were thinking about getting you transferred here permanently, and I don’t believe that would be in the best interests of SHIELD.”

“And I told you,” Ianto pointed out, “that, whatever Jemma and Fitz decided would be fine with me.  I would never pressure them into choosing Torchwood over SHIELD.”

“It’s not you I’m so worried about, Jones.  It’s Sir Archibald.  I have it on excellent authority that he wants Agent Fitz to take over his place in Torchwood eventually.”

“I would really like to know where you got that information,” Ianto growled.

Fury didn’t answer.  Not that Jemma expected him to.

Fitz’s mouth dropped open.  “Uncle Archie hasn’t said a word to me about that.”

“And he wouldn’t,” Ianto reassured him.  “Sir Archie knows what SHIELD means to you.  He was going to ask you much later, but it would have been entirely in your hands.  He understands that your family situation hasn’t been the best, but he _has_ missed you, and believes you could, eventually,” he returned Fury’s glare, “take over Torchwood House.  It wasn’t meant to be now, or not even in the next several years.  He was simply going to ask you to consider it.  And, since you wouldn’t leave SHIELD without Jemma, then the offer for her to come with you would be open.”

He folded his hands onto his blotter.  “I should also like to point out, that he wasn’t going to even bring up the subject before you’d gone back to SHIELD.  He was going to wait and, once you were a bit older, ask you to think about it.  However, it appears that Director Fury likes to jump the gun, as it were.”

Director Fury shrugged.  “What can I say?  I might think this exchange thing is a good idea, but I don’t like anyone poaching my people.”

Oh, this made so much sense.  “There’s always been a MacLeish in Torchwood,” Jemma murmured.

Ianto nodded.  “You’re right, and Sir Archie is the last of the MacLeishes and doesn’t have children of his own.”

“I thought I wasn’t chosen because of Uncle Archie,” Fitz accused.

“And we told you the truth.”  Ianto rubbed a hand across his eyes.  “We chose you and Jemma because you are truly the best and brightest of what SHIELD had to offer.  It was a happy accident that you’re related to Sir Archie, and we didn’t even know that until after you were _both_ selected. It was Sir Archie’s idea to approach you at some point down the road, and I agreed with it after seeing how well the two of you worked together.”

He rose to his feet.  “Director Fury, while I agree that the exchange programme is a good thing, you simply cannot storm into Torchwood House and demand we return your scientists.  Of course, we will,” he held up a hand to forestall what Fury was about to say, “but we had a deal.  Torchwood will live up to that deal; we expect SHIELD to do the same.  We promised that, if anyone wished to stay, they would be given the opportunity.  Nothing would be forced on them, and I resent the intimation that Jack and I would resort to that sort of intimidation tactics.”

Fury held up his own hands in a conciliatory gesture.  “Fine.  Okay.  I’m just looking out for my assets.  You can’t tell me that you or Harkness wouldn’t have done the same thing it if was one of your people.”

“I would like to think we would respect their choices,” Ianto answered softly. 

“Fair enough.”

Jemma glanced between the two men, seeing the antagonism despite their words.  She certainly hadn’t expected this to happen, to have these two people fighting over herself and Fitz.  There was a part of her that glowed warmly, knowing that she and Fitz were appreciated that much, but there was also another part of her that was angry on her best friend’s behalf.  Sir Archie was Fitz’s family, and what Director Fury had just done was undermine that, and it made her so very angry to see the doubt in her friend’s eyes. 

“You know,” she spoke up, before she even realised she’d done so, “it would serve you right, Director Fury, if Fitz and I _did_ decide to stay on here at Torchwood House.”

Director Fury’s single eye glared at her.  Jemma wanted to quail under it, but Ianto was leaning back in his chair, watching with interest, and there was something in his expression that encouraged her to continue.

“You just came in here, and made Fitz doubt the only man who’s ever treated him fairly.  His great-uncle means a lot to him, and you just stamped all over those emotions because you were feeling threatened that we might be tempted away from SHIELD.  And yes, I admit, I’ve been thinking about it.  Fitz and I discussed it, several times, and we both decided to return to SHIELD after this and fulfil our part of the assignment.  But this…” Tears began to prickle her eyes. 

“I think Jemma and I have a lot to talk about,” Fitz cut in.  He wasn’t at all pleased by what had occurred, but Jemma knew that he’d been tempted as well, and not because of Sir Archie.  They’d made friends here; okay, not so much with Malcolm, but he _was_ growing on her…a little. 

Without asking for permission to leave, Fitz touched her elbow and ushered her out.  He closed the door, cutting off the argument that had started back up in the sitting room.

 

**********

 

“Well,” Jemma sighed once she and Fitz had made their way back to her room, “I feel a little like an idiot, blowing up like that.”

She sat on the bed, legs crossed, while her friend had taken the overstuffed chair in the corner.  Fitz was stone-faced, which was unusual for him, and Jemma wanted to hug him. 

But, she refrained.  She didn’t think it would be very welcome at the moment.

“You weren’t an idiot, Jemma.  It was just a little…unexpected, I suppose.” Fitz shrugged. 

“Are you mad at your uncle for not saying anything?”  The one thing Jemma was most concerned about was his relationship was with Sir Archie.  She didn’t want to see it wrecked.

“No, not really.  I should have seen something like this coming.  After all, Uncle Archie was correct…there has always been a MacLeish with Torchwood.  We’ve seen the records.  I should have expected him to make some sort of overture about it.  I just didn’t expect to hear about it from Director Fury, just because he was bothered by the fact that we might accept.”

“Are you…are you beginning to wish we hadn’t taken this assignment?”  She was a little afraid of the answer.

“No!” he exclaimed.  “God, no!  We’ve made friends here.  And what we’ve learned and seen…I wouldn’t have traded our time here for anything.”

“I think what bothers me about the entire thing was that Director Fury just assumed we’d choose Torchwood over SHIELD.  I don’t understand that.  Why send us if he thought we’d do something like that?”

“Well, it’s not like we didn’t think about it.”

He had a point. 

Jemma nodded.  “But we weren’t actually going to _do_ it.”

“No, we weren’t.  And I think we know Ianto well enough by now to realise he was telling the truth about giving us the choice.”

“Exactly.”  Although she was pretty certain their interim employer wasn’t exactly everything he seemed on the surface.  Too many things were off about Ianto Jones, and it had her questioning the idea that he was even human.  Torchwood helped aliens, even letting aliens work for them.  Why couldn’t their second in command be an alien, as well? 

It was an exciting notion, and it gave Jemma a little hope for the future, where aliens and humans could work together.

They were silent for a little while.  Jemma took the chance to think about what had just happened.  Over their time at Torchwood House, they’d seen so many wondrous things, but it wasn’t quite enough to tempt them to stay.  Adding to that this thing with Sir Archie…well, maybe someday they’d be back, but she wasn’t sure about that, not right now. 

They had lives within SHIELD.  A part of Jemma was gratified that Director Fury had been more than willing to come all the way to Scotland in order to make certain that they stayed, but it was also completely uncalled for.  Even if Ianto had offered – and Jemma was quite certain he would have, at some point – neither of them would have accepted, although it wasn’t because they weren’t fascinated by what they’d been exposed to here. 

And they would have _considered_ it…which they had done already without benefit of the actual offer.

There was a quiet knock on the door.

Jemma met Fitz’s eyes, and she nodded as he went to answer it.  She had a feeling it was one of three people: Director Fury, Ianto, or…

Sir Archie stood just outside, his expression so very uncertain.  Jemma felt a little bad for him as Fitz let him into the room. 

The older man had only looked that way once…when they’d thought that Kren was dying.

“I…thought I’d let ye yell at me a bit,” Sir Archie admitted.  His shoulders were slumped in defeat, and he wouldn’t meet their eyes. 

Jemma decided to let Fitz handle this.

“Why would we yell at you, Uncle Archie?  Unless you’re here to tell us that you actually _did_ get us here with an ulterior motive in mind.”

“No, lad.  I swear I didn’t do that.  It was like Ianto said: they chose ye’re files before they knew about our familial connection, so ye’re both here on ye’re merits, and nothing else.”

“Then, I don’t see a reason for it.  Do you?”

Sir Archie was relieved.  “I’m glad ye feel that way, Leopold.  I wouldn’t want ye to think I’ve been hiding anything from you…well, except for the things that are above ye’re pay grade, that is.”

“And that’s to be expected.” Fitz took his chair back.  “I just wish you’d said something about all this bollocks about taking over for you before we had to find it out like this.”

“Maybe I should have.  But, to be honest…I would have preferred ye never to knowing.  I’d already realised ye’d most likely say no.”  He sighed.  “Ye’ve been happy with SHIELD. Leopold.  I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that, just because I’ve been lonely.”

“But you’re not alone,” Jemma protested. “You’ve got friends here, people who care about you very much.  Plus, there’s Kren…and don’t think we haven’t noticed how you look at her.”

To her surprise, Sir Archie blushed.  “I was hoping no one would.”

“Uncle Archie, it’s obvious you love her.  You should say something.”

“I’m pretty certain she doesn’t feel the same way I do, lad.”

“Why are men so oblivious?” Jemma exclaimed.  “Honestly, just tell her!”

Sir Archie chuckled.  “Alright, I’ll say something.”

“Good.”

“You know we’ll keep in touch,” Fitz continued.  “Now that we have the clearance to know what you’re doing up here.”

“And I’m certain we’ll work together again at some point,” Jemma added. 

“True,” the older man conceded. “Tis a small universe out there, after all.”  He gave them both a smile, and Jemma was glad to see him back to his confident self.  “Now, we still have work to do today. Let’s get cracking, shall we?”

“What about Director Fury?” Fitz wanted to know.

“Oh, he left.  Apparently, the row he and Ianto had cleared the air between them.  Fury’s fine with the pair of you finishing out your time here.”

Jemma felt something tight within her loosen at that.  She would have felt like an unruly child being fetched on home if the Director had stayed to escort them back.

Sir Archie turned to leave, stopping just short of the door. “Oh,” he glanced over his shoulder, “ye should know that Ianto had the paperwork all filled out for ye’re transfer if ye’d shown any inkling of wanting to stay permanently.”

Jemma laughed.  Why wasn’t she surprised?  Ianto was just that highly efficient, after all.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter, which will be a bit of a canon change to the MCU...be looking for it on Tuesday. :)

 

**_10 October 2010_ **

**_Torchwood House_ **

**_Aberdeenshire, Scotland_ **

****

The going-away party was a bit of a surprise.

She and Fitz had just finished up their last project of their stay at Torchwood House, filing the reports on mainframe, when Ianto called them up to the dining room.  As it was almost time to eat anyway, neither of them had thought anything about it.

So, everyone shouting, “Surprise!” as they entered the room had Jemma startled so much she actually jumped, and Fitz wasn’t any better.

There was even cake.

It felt bittersweet, in that they were heading back home; but, at the same time, they were leaving the people who’d become such good friends.  Well, there was Malcolm, but even he’d mellowed a bit in the months since he’d been assigned there from UNIT.

Even Toshiko had come up from Cardiff to wish them well, which was very nice.  She and Fitz particularly had gotten along well, and Jemma quite liked her. 

But, if she was being honest, the one she would miss most would be Oscar.

She’d shared lab space with him for months, and the three of them had made an excellent team.  If someone had once told Jemma that she would be friends with an alien velociraptor from the future, she would have laughed…but that was before Torchwood, and the exchange programme.  It didn’t hurt that Oscar was quite possibly one of the sweetest people she’d ever met.  Sure, his table manners were a bit to be desired, but when one had a mouthful of sharp teeth it was fairly difficult to be a pretty eater. 

“Do not be sad,” Oscar told her.  He’d gotten a lot better at reading human expressions.  “We shall keep in touch over the personal messenger system and electronic mail.”

“We all will,” Penelope assured her, as she joined them.  “And, if you need anything, all you have to do is ping me.”

“I know.” And she did.  It was just hard, after having worked with these wonderful people for months. 

Penelope grinned.  “Ping me anyway if you’re ever in the neighbourhood, and we’ll go shopping.  You need more red in your wardrobe to go with that red in your hair.”

Jemma didn’t touch the highlights Penelope had given her, but she’d done that very thing for the first two weeks of her new hair style, just to confirm she’d been as bold as that.

“I understand you’ll be joining the 0-8-4 taskforce,” Ianto commented.  He passed her another piece of cake and, as it was chocolate, there was no way Jemma was going to turn it down.

She nodded.  “That’s what I’ve heard.  I also know Fitz and I will be doing a seminar at the Academy on alien technology.”

“You will speak in front of strangers?” Oscar asked incredulously.  “You will freeze up like a deer in front of the headlights, I believe the saying is.”

Jemma laughed.  He wasn’t wrong.

“Do you who the Agent in Charge is going to be yet?” Ianto enquired.

“Not yet, but if you have something to share…”

It was Ianto’s turn to laugh.  “I’m afraid not, although I have my suspicions.  Anymore, the only time Director Fury calls me anymore is to try to recruit me.  Apparently, me standing up to him was refreshing and he’d like to have me do it all the time.”  He took a sip from the mug he was holding.  “Among other…talents, that I may have.”

Jemma could imagine.  Ianto was organised, and intelligent, and extremely hard working.  He was also one of those people who could do with very little sleep and still function at one hundred percent.  She wished she’d had that sort of stamina while she was studying for her PhDs.

There was also his coffee, but Jemma wasn’t certain if Director Fury had had any of that as yet.

And she wasn’t about to get into the very real certainty that he was an alien.  Jemma was positive he was, now that she’d been around him for months. There were just too many things that added up to him being someone not from this world.  He hadn’t come out and said anything, but Jemma could hardly blame him, although she was dying to ask.  She was quite certain that knowing Torchwood’s Second in Command was an alien was far above her clearance level.

She looked across the room, to where Fitz was speaking with Sir Archie and Kren…who were looking distinctly chummy.  She was happy for them, to have found each other.  Even though she credited herself for pushing them in the right direction.

Sir Archie had attempted to do the same thing with her and Fitz, but really…he was just her best friend.  It wasn’t like that between them.

Although, there was a tiny part of her that wished they _did_ have that sort of relationship.

“You and Fitz will both be missed around here,” Ianto said.  “You’ve both done a lot to help us get ready for the official recommissioning.  Perhaps we can borrow you both again sometime.”

That statement was met with a round of agreement, and Jemma felt herself blush a little under their regard.  She and Fitz had been in their own lab at the Triskelion for so long, without much interactions with anyone else outside of their fellow scientists.  Yes, it was like that here, but it was also different, in that they’d all lived in each other’s pockets for months.  Each of these people weren’t SHIELD, hadn’t been through the same academy and indoctrination that SHIELD agents did.  They were all different and special in their own right.

Jemma felt as if she and Fitz had met friends for life.

“Maybe,” she agreed happily.  At the very least, they’d all keep in touch.

She had no doubt of that.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at the end of this story. The next one will be "Aftermath", which details events that take place after "The Avengers", and will start posting when I get back, so stay tuned for that one. 
> 
> Also, Thursday I will be posting "The Wizard and the Void" in its entirety (all 34 chapters and 105,000 words!) for the Marvel Bang. I can't believe that thing is that long...
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading and commenting. See you all when I get back!

 

**_6 May 2011_ **

**_Puente Antiguo, New Mexico_ **

****

It was raining. 

Jemma thought that strange, as they were in the desert and all.

The base was on alert.  Something odd was going on with the 0-8-4 they were studying; it looked very much like a hammer, which no one had seemed to be able to lift.  It had unknown runes carved on it that looked vaguely like Viking symbols she’d seen in books, but when she’d forwarded on a sample to Torchwood, Penelope hadn’t found anything in the Archives that matched them, although Ianto was also looking through the paper records that hadn’t been digitised as yet, which had been on his to-do list ever since their time at Torchwood House; there was just over a century’s worth of written records and, while Ianto had an excellent work ethic, there was only so far someone could get in the time he’d been working on the project.  Toshiko was checking with her translation software, but she hadn’t discovered anything yet, either.

They’d seen a few strange items, but nothing like that hammer.  It defied being scanned, and from what she and Fitz had managed to discover there should be no reason at all for its ability not to be budged.  However, they _had_ been able to ascertain that it was the reason for the warped local weather patterns, which was bizarre, and a lot of the energy it exuded was completely unknown.

“What have we got?” Agent Coulson asked, as he entered the temporary shelter.  He was dripping wet, and he was holding a radio in one hand; Jemma had put in a report detailing Torchwood’s comm system, but there were places out in the field where they simply didn’t have coverage yet, and besides whatever the 0-8-4 was, it interfered with the signal.  Both Penelope and Toshiko were absolutely fascinated with the effect, and Agent Coulson had promised them copies of all their readings.  What readings they were getting, that was.

“There’s a massive electromagnetic surge coming from the object, sir,” Fitz reported from his station.  Jemma, sitting next to him, leaned over to watch the readings come in.  Electromagnetism had been one of the very few things they’d been able to detect from the object.

They’d been a part of the 0-8-4 taskforce almost from the moment they’d left Torchwood House, and this wasn’t the first time they’d found themselves working with Agent Coulson, who ostensibly led the entire taskforce, not just their part of it.  She found that she quite liked the missions that Coulson led; they seemed to have a higher chance of success, and tended toward being more exciting to boot.

However, this was the first mission they’d had where Agent Barton was involved.  Jemma was fond of the agent; he was funny, and irreverent, and didn’t put up with anyone’s crap; besides, she trusted him.  She and Fitz could also talk to him about Torchwood, which was impossible with anyone else of their acquaintance.  Agent Barton had also said they could talk to Agent Coulson’s personal assistant, Agent Noble, because she’d been involved, at least peripherally, with Torchwood, but neither of them had done that as yet.  She figured they would, eventually, because it was always good to have allies in one’s corner.

It was just a bit sad that they couldn’t share what they’d seen there with their other co-workers, outside of the couple of seminars they’d given; and even then, they couldn’t admit where they’d gotten their information from. It made citing precedents a little awkward.

To be honest, as much as she was enjoying being out in the field, Jemma was missing their lab time.  Perhaps they could get to spend more time in their laboratory at the Triskelion at some point, where they could actually _work_ on the discoveries they’d made so far.

As Coulson walked by, she could hear him calling to Agent Barton over his radio.  Knowing the archer the way she did, Jemma figured he’d used that crane that was out on the outskirts of the camp; the one they’d used to get most of the scaffolding in place when they’d constructed the base around the strange hammer.  That made the most sense; after all, he did like to be up high, although in a thunderstorm being that far up in the air was inherently dangerous.  Jemma made a mental note of what they might have in the temporary base in case of lightning strikes, and possibly hypothermia, since it was also cold in the desert at night.  Add to that the rain…there would at least need to be something hot to drink involved, and the coffee was _atrocious_.

Yes, she still missed Ianto’s coffee.

From what she could tell, there was an intruder on the base, most likely after the hammer since it was the only really interesting artefact they had; besides, she doubted in coincidence and who would attack their base if they weren’t after it?  Jemma trusted the agents on duty to protect the science team studying the 0-8-4, they were trained for that sort of thing and the majority of them were simply intimidating.

She turned back to her own station, booting up the CCTV for the base, searching for the intruder.  She found him, currently fighting with several rather burly agents, inexorably heading for that mysterious hammer at the centre of the camp.  He was tall, and blond, and quite honestly resembled some sort of male model even in jeans and a t-shirt that was obviously too small.  He didn’t look a thing like an alien, but she also knew that visitors to Earth came in all shapes and sizes and there was a certain Ianto Jones, who looked human but who she was absolutely positive was alien even though he’d never admitted it to her and she’d never been able to get independent corroboration.  She was hoping she’d be able to at least get a blood sample from their intruder…

The violence was over fairly quickly, and Barton hadn’t even had to take the shot.  The person was in custody after failing to shift the hammer, and Jemma had lots of pretty samples from their visitor. 

It wasn’t until a year later that she’d understand just what Thor Odinsson would mean to the Earth.

But, for now, she would study, and learn, and be the best agent she could.  She had Fitz at her side, and her friends in her ear, and that was plenty for her. 

And she had both SHIELD and Torchwood in their corner.

 

_Fin_

 

 


End file.
